


Clusterfuck

by cow_queen



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Road Trip, Catholic Guilt, Eventual Smut, F/M, Harry is in love with Niall, I'll change the rating when I get there, Internalized Homophobia, Liam and Sophia are only referenced, M/M, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, Niall can be a bit much at times, There is no warning for intense homophobia, There's just lots of shenanigans, because it was hard for my pansexual and southern baptist raised ass to write sometimes, however I would suggest that you not read this if you're triggered by intense homophobia, lots of love sick idiots being love sick, music duo - lilo, niall is an idiot, road trip au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2018-07-23 20:54:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 35,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7479654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cow_queen/pseuds/cow_queen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You know that I've never really been good at being spontaneous."<br/>"Yeah, I know, but that's why you have me."</p><p>OR</p><p>The one where Louis and Liam go on a road trip around England to get Liam's mind off of Uni and his recent mess of a break up with long term girlfriend Sophia Smith, and Niall and Harry take pity on them after their car breaks down. It goes as well as can be expected.<br/>(Contains: BoyxBoy, internalized homophobia, and lots of sarcasm)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this idea for a while now and I've just now gotten around to writing it. The updates will be slow because I'm working on another story that I plan on trying to publish. This story will follow both Lilo and Narry until their lives intertwine. I'm really excited to get going with this story, but I do have to put a warning just in case. There will be internalized homophobia and occasional derogatory slang. So, with that warning being given; I hope you all enjoy!

**LOUIS & LIAM**

There were few ‘emergencies’ that Louis had decided were worthy enough to warrant raiding the cabinet full of liquor in his and Liam's flat. One of them had been when he had cut open his pointer finger pretty badly when cutting vegetables and he needed something to numb the pain while he waited for Liam to stop panicking long enough to actually help him. Another time had been when his grandmother had died about a year back right before final exams, and the last occasion had been due to a shortage of booze at one of Ed’s parties if he was remembering correctly (most of that night was a blur). However, he had pulled out the most expensive of all of the bottles on the day that Liam had come back to the flat blubbering over his breakup with his longterm girlfriend Sophia.

You see, there were a lot of things that Louis could handle in life with a reasonable amount of restraint-after all, he'd put up with bullies in a private school that seemed to love to goad him on-but even the thought of Liam crying made him want to kill whoever had wronged the boy. That had caused a lot of problems in the beginning seeing as he hadn't really gotten along with his flatmate; _ he _ had been the one that had been making Liam upset those days, and it had always made him feel incredibly guilty. Of course, that was back when they were both just starting Uni and Liam was so serious and all around pretty clueless to the fact that Louis didn't mean to come across as an inconsiderate ass as much as he actually had. It was hard to share a space with someone that he thought was a constant nag, and he could admit that he was a bit prickly back then as well. It had just been a really miserable time until Liam started to understand that Louis’ sarcasm wasn't always meant to be hurtful and that his banter was just different, not bad. Even then, though, there was still that awful feeling that came along with Liam being upset. Except now it was Sophia that had gone and done the damage after two years of dating, and Louis doubted that Liam would ever allow him to try and get back at her for hurting him so badly.

The problem laid in the fact that Liam had been damn sure that Sophia was the one for him, or at least that was what he told Louis whenever the blue eyed boy questioned him about the relationship. Hell, he'd practically been hearing wedding bells since the day that they said ‘I love you’ for the first time. And Louis had warned him about getting too deep too soon long before the fallout had started. Of course, the warning had only fallen on deaf ears since Liam had learned not to listen to most of Louis’ advice (which was probably a good thing considering Louis’ history). Now, Louis wasn't an ass-despite what some might say-so he definitely wasn't going to shower Liam in ‘I told you so’s. No, he'd save that for a time when they could look back at this night and laugh.

“There's plenty of birds out there, Liam,” Louis said dismissively, trying to reassure the crying boy. He plopped down beside him with a full bottle of whiskey clutched in one of his hands. As nonchalantly as possible, he pushed the bottle towards Liam who quickly gathered it up like a baby.

Liam pouted at him quite pathetically, “I don't want just any other bird; she was my canary, Lou.” The statement really wouldn't have been complete without the way that he took a swig of the whiskey afterwards. It led to a lot of coughing and a small curse before he was able to calm himself down. Louis had to keep himself from laughing at his roommate. Instead, he pursed his lips and pretended to be cross.

“You know, if you weren't such a mess, I would hit you for being so ridiculously cheesy.” Then, with a quirk of his brow, “and could you have picked a more annoying bird? I mean honestly, canaries are the worst.”

Liam's pout came back, but he actually looked a little bit genuine with his hurt that time, “Stop being so mean to me; I'm delicate right now.” And maybe that was true to a certain extent. He sure did look delicate; with the end of exams, he had bags under his eyes from the lack of sleep, and the break up had made everything on his face an angry red from crying. Even Liam's usually plump, pink lips were red and marred from the way that he had been worrying them between his lips. He was wearing a red shirt that made the bloodshot of his eyes even more pronounced, and he had curled in on himself in a feeble attempt to keep Louis out. So yes, he looked like an odd mixture of pitiful and delicate. Louis didn't like having to describe him as either of those things, though.

“God, you’re a bigger mess than I thought,” the older boy shook his head with the words. After making the strategic move to swipe the whiskey from Liam‒asking him to deal with a crying Liam while sober really wasn’t fair‒he narrowed his eyes at the pout that still greeted him. “Listen, you’re not going to achieve anything by sitting here and moping about it.” He did his best to swallow the harsh alcohol without coughing up half a lung afterwards. Unlike Liam, he was used to getting pissed during the late nights at Uni and a bit of strong whiskey wasn’t going to beat him so easily.

The slouching of Liam’s body continued until the brown eyed boy’s head was resting on Louis’ shoulder and Louis could feel the slight stutter in his chest. Right, that was why he had sworn off getting smashed when Liam was around. He could vaguely remember the time that he had down half a thing of vodka in under an hour and ended the night by trying to tell Liam about his feelings for him. Thankfully, he had spilled the contents of his stomach all over Liam’s shoes before he could spill out the contents of his heart. He could live with vomit; the fallout of confessing his feelings to his oblivious and  _ straight _ roommate would have sent him into a lifetime of reliving that embarrassment.

He snapped out of his thoughts the second that Liam’s hiccuping voice broke through the noise inside his own head, “I don’t want to achieve anything; I want to make myself into a blanket burrito and watch films until this semester ends.”

“Fucking hell,” Louis mumbled, not bothering to cover up his laugh that time. The idea of Liam going off the Uni grid until the summer stretch came by waiting it all out in a pile of blankets was too amusing to him. The utterly pitiful tone in Liam’s voice didn’t help him at all, and Louis couldn’t help but to wonder if he was ever this bad when he and Eleanor broke up. If so, he owed his old mate, Zayn, an apology (though, that would require talking to him, and Louis knew that  _ that _ would never happen). “That’s it,” he began once his laughter had died, pushing the bottle of whiskey back into his roommate’s hands before standing up and dusting his hands on his pants, “I refuse to let you fall into a slump.”

“Little late,” Liam mumbled back, tipping the bottle up and soldiering through the burn of it until he had polished off a fair portion. Louis would have been impressed if he hadn’t done it before, but it was an achievement for the inexperienced drinker that was his roommate.

After a few times of nudging the younger man with the tip of his sockless foot, Louis succeeded in getting his attention. The puppy dog eyes that looked up at him were not what he was used to, and it only encouraged the next words to fall from his lips without a thought. “After Uni ends, we’re going to go do something crazy.”

“I’ve told you a thousand times: I don’t want to help you rob a bank,” Liam huffed, rolling his eyes before going to take another drink.

Louis groaned, smacking a hand against his face, “Despite what you might think, I’d rather not spend my whole summer in prison.” He tapped at Liam with his foot a few more times, earning a groan that was good enough for him, “No, I was thinking more along the lines of a road trip.”

“Oh wow, that  _ is _ crazy.”

That earned a bit of a harmless sneer from Louis; Liam wasn’t sarcastic very often, but the bite of it could be dangerous when he was. For now, he could blame it all on the alcohol and heartbreak. “I can make it crazy,” Louis replied confidently, crossing his arms over his chest and holding his head high with the words. When he didn’t get a reply from Liam after that, he glanced down to make sure that the bloke was still awake (it wouldn’t be the first time that Liam had fallen asleep after a few sips of something). He was, all wide eyed from alcohol and looking up at Louis as if he was the oddest thing that he had ever seen. “What do ya say?” Louis prompted, feeling a bit nervous with how long Liam’s pause had lasted.

The other man sighed heavily, looking down to the bottle in his hands as if it held the answer. After a quick purse of his plump lips, he answered, "You know that I've never really been good at being spontaneous."

"Yeah, I know,” Louis shrugged his shoulders and dropped to his knees once again in order to be eye level with Liam, “but that's why you have me." Even though the sadness still swirled around with the brown in Liam’s eyes, Louis was glad when those same eyes crinkled around the edges. After all, things couldn’t be totally lost when Liam was still able to look all the part of an adorably happy puppy. He’d make sure that that look never left Liam’s face even if he had to bend over backward all summer just to do it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The thing is, Niall is a complete gem, and Harry was quite sure that he had never done anything in his life to deserve someone who released pure happiness every time he laughed.

**HARRY & NIALL **

Harry wouldn’t exactly describe Uni as  _ fun _ . Yeah, he and Robin had had loads of talks back when the whole application process was driving him through the roof, and Robin had said some sage shit about how Uni was supposed to be the time when you said ‘fuck off’ to the world (of course, Harry might be paraphrasing that bit). Then again, if Harry had wanted to pick a place where the general attitude was ‘fuck off’ then the University of Bristol would have been the place where he ended up instead of the University of Surrey. No, instead of pissing away his money at one of the few nightclubs surrounding the humble university, he could usually be found pouring over the sticky keys of his keyboard (he had given up on the ‘s’ and ‘u’ buttons halfway through the year).

While Harry loved the subject he was studying with a burning passion‒art history really  _ had _ turned out to be his forte‒he didn’t always love Uni. As it turned out, the only thing besides his studies that was actually likeable in Uni was his roommate. They’d met the first year, both of them coming in as bright eyed, bushy tailed Uni students who had no idea of the horrors that awaited them. Harry had stumbled into their dorm room after tripping over his suitcase  _ again _ , and his mother had been shouting something about testosterone that made his cheeks burn. It wouldn’t have been a problem if it hadn’t been for the fact that God hated him and his roommate was some kind of fucking Adonis. An Adonis who had a front row seat to Harry’s mum pinching his cheeks and kissing him all over before she left the campus.

The thing is, Niall is a complete  _ gem _ , and Harry was quite sure that he had never done anything in his life to deserve someone who released pure happiness every time he laughed. He’d been the object of Harry’s fantasies for the first few months of Uni, and that was nothing compared to when they eventually became close enough to be friends. And then Niall had requested Harry as his roommate the next year, and that was probably when Harry could admit that he was completely gone for the false blonde. It’d been two months into their second year when Harry realized that he was full on pinning after Niall, the blue-eyed Irish kid who knew  _ way _ too much about biochemistry to be reasonable.

By the time that they had gotten halfway through the year, Harry’s world had done a one-eighty. It had been a Tuesday night‒he only remembered because the hall smelled like weed that night so it had to have been a ‘turn up’ Tuesday‒and he had just gotten back from a class that had run late. His day had been an absolute shit show since he had spilled coffee over one of his professors (Dr. Dreadful as Harry had so  _ lovingly _ referred to him back then), and he desperately wanted to collapse on top of his stiff dorm bed. However, he had stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the tie on the doorknob of their room. It was one of Niall’s, the fancy kind that he liked to wear to interviews for internships.

It shouldn’t have bothered Harry as much as it did; he wouldn’t admit that he had ended up in the resident stoner’s room (he was apparently the only one not entertaining a ‘friend’ for the night) with flushed cheeks from a few bouts of tears. It’s just… there had been a few nights at a few parties where Niall had maybe had a few too many drinks and ended up kissing Harry senseless. Though, Harry should have known that that wouldn’t stop Niall from bringing some bird back with him since Niall had always pretended like nothing had happened when he was sober in the morning. So, it really shouldn’t have hurt Harry as much as it did. He just liked Niall a lot.

They had talked about it the next morning, Harry wrapped up in a childish Spiderman throw that his mother had sent with him when he was coming back from Christmas holiday, a cuppa in hand as he stared out their window. It was a bleak day, and he tried to make it seem casual‒almost as if he was commenting on how dreary it looked outside‒when he asked about the bird that Niall had shagged the night before. And, stupidly, Harry had said something about how he had suspected that Niall might be a bit into men since he had never seen him bring a girl around before. Niall laughed longer than Harry thought would be warranted, and he made sure that Harry knew exactly just how straight he was. Harry hadn’t planned on coming out to his roommate that day, but he also hadn’t planned on coming back to the sound of a creaking bed the night before either. In the end, the conversation hadn’t changed much besides the fact that Niall started hanging the tie on the door a lot more often.

A lot had passed by then; they were practically veterans in Uni, coming out of their third year relatively unscathed. Harry hadn’t stopped fancying Niall, really didn’t think that he could, even with all of the times that Niall had drunkenly pieced together his heart just to soberly break it yet again. Aside from that, the third year had been one of the best. They’d gotten closer,  _ really _ close actually, and Harry was kind of dreading having to spend a whole summer away from him. Then again, he knew that Niall was probably missing his family back in Mullingar.

So, Harry wasn’t exactly expecting Niall to initiate that particular conversation about their summer plans. He’d been lounging around with his Macbook (it had an Irish flag skin since Niall was unapologetically patriotic) propped up on his stomach and a beer hanging from his hand. Despite Harry’s many rants about how horrid alcohol was, he still waved around a Guinness with pride. It was near the end of exam week, though, and Niall had just gotten done with his biochemistry one so he decided that he could let this one time slide.

When Niall spoke, Harry almost wasn’t sure if he was actually talking to him. Sometimes the older lad would do that, mumble something incoherently in his garbled Irish accent, and then shake his head when Harry bothered to ask. This time, though, the false blonde was looking back at him as he twirled his beer bottle between his fingers. "Hey, let's do something this summer."

It wasn’t something that Harry was expecting to hear; Niall pretty much went off the grid during summer, almost never answering messages and calling once in a blue moon. The thought of him voluntarily spending a few days with Harry was enough to make the curly haired boy beam with excitement. He set his book‒something with a pretty cover and a French name‒down on his bed so that he could give Niall his complete attention as he tried to quell his smile, "Yeah?"

"Yeah,” Niall nodded, sounding a lot more sure of himself that time around, “How about we go around England and really enjoy ourselves? I'll take you around to all of those great art places that you're always talking about: stop at a few local art galleries like the ones you drag me to. How does that sound?"

If Harry failed to reign in his smile that time, it really wasn’t his fault. He was expecting Niall to suggest carving out a few days for him, but what he was talking about could quite possibly take over a few  _ weeks _ . They’d have to stay in hotel rooms and order in room service and Niall would have to sit through hours of Harry just staring at art. It sounded like a dream. "I love it." 

Harry was sure that he wasn’t imagining how wide Niall’s smile was as well. However, it didn’t stick around, because it dipped as he brought his bottle up to his lips and hesitated to drink so that he could speak around the lip of the bottle, "Of course, it's alright if you want to go off and do your own… things some nights." 

The curly haired boy looked down to his abandoned book, finding that it was a lot easier to stare at than Niall was in that moment. He wasn’t a stranger to that tone that Niall got when he was talking about ‘those things’, otherwise known as gay things. After a sigh, Harry answered with, "Oh, you don't have to worry about that." And it was true, because Harry had only ever brought one guy into their dorm and Niall had walked in (despite the fact that Harry had sent him a text about having company over) so nothing had really happened. Harry was still as much of a virgin as the first day he had met Niall, tripping over a navy suitcase that was packed with twice as many clothes as it should have been capable of carrying.

Niall nodded, almost as if he was somehow satisfied with the answer, and he finished up his beer before he spoke again. “We’d have to stay in the area until my interview for next year’s internship is done, but then it’s all up to you, Haz,” he said, one brow quirked when he saw Harry’s smile coming back, “And I want to make it to a few pubs, alright?”

“Of course,” Harry agreed easily, knowing that‒if Niall was going to treat him to a summer full of art‒the least he could do was put up with a few nights of a piss drunk Niall. And, maybe he’d turn out to be spectacularly wrong, but he really believed that this summer was going to be one of the best. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis and Liam's trip starts out on a pleasant note; Louis starts to question if he can last the summer without doing something stupid.

**LOUIS & LIAM**

Renting a van for the road trip and packing in preparation were the easy parts that came after the decision to actually go out and drive towards the western coast; getting through the week of hell that is exams was much harder. Louis was sure that he had downed his weight in energy drinks just to stay up to study everything that he had forgotten through the semester. Now, a week after he had taken his last exam, he was still feeling the effects of the questionable tasting drinks on his poor heart (do hearts normally stop every now and then? How fast is too fast?). He’d gotten through it in the end, and he went through the cycle of dread that came with having to wait a month or so for his marks to be up.

Liam had to take his last exam the day that they were set to leave. He was much more composed about it, and Louis was envious of the way that the boy could get away with barely studying and still manage to walk out of the testing room as if he knew that he had aced it. Even with the break up happening a week before, he seemed calm and collected when the exams came around, and his sorrowful expression only returned when it was all said and done. Louis didn’t like seeing him look like that, and he tried very hard to fight off the look the second that they had gotten into the van.

It was a creaky thing, moaning loudly whenever someone stepped into the husk of a back where the two boys would be crashing most nights. They had blankets and pillows laid out in the back, taking up the space that was left even after they had loaded up their things from their dorm. It was still spacious, and Louis could deal with the shotty engine and outdated steering wheel if it meant that they were comfortable. Liam had been in awe of it when Louis had first shown it to him, and that had really sealed the deal.

They set off as soon as Liam had set some last minute things straight, and he took a kip in the back just because school was tiring altogether. For a few minutes, Louis was left alone with his thoughts. Later, he would probably lie and tell Liam that he hadn’t spent time procrastinating on his studies by planning out what they would be doing. If Liam wanted to praise him for being the spontaneous one, that was quite alright with him.

Eventually, Liam was climbing into the passenger seat sleepily, falling over himself just to get into the seat next to Louis. He ended up accidentally smacking Louis in the head at one point, laughing about it even though Louis veered a little off the road. Once he was settled, he hit the button for the radio and turned it up when he recognized the particularly sad sounding song. “This is nice,” the younger boy mumbled lazily, his head lulling against the back of the seat.

Louis reached to turn the radio to a different channel, one that wasn’t blasting a breakup song. Liam only shook his head and rolled his eyes, but it was all in fondness, and it all made Louis’ heart hurt a bit. “Yeah?” his eyes were focused on the road again, but his lips twitched upwards easily with the words.

There was a nod from Liam, and he turned the radio up ever so slightly before relaxing in his seat completely. “Thanks, Lou,” he spoke up once he had adjusted to being awake. Louis looked over at him for a second, enjoying the fond expression that Liam still harbored, “I know that I’ve said it about a hundred times, but I really mean it. You didn’t have to do this.”

“Um, yeah I kinda did.” Louis looked back to the road, a laugh tumbling out of him after he saw the confused look on Liam face, “Liam, you were a fucking mess; I wasn’t going to leave you like that for an entire summer.”

Liam rolled his eyes yet again, smacking Louis’ arm just enough to make him swerve ever so slightly. It only resulted in Louis smacking him right back, but Liam grabbed at his wrist before he could continue with his attack. “Alright, but it still means a lot to me, alright?” Louis nodded along for reassurance, and the reply made the younger boy smile brightly, “And I’m already starting to feel like myself again.” Louis sent him a disbelieving look, his brows arched enough to reach the top of his forehead. Batting at him one more time, Liam continued, “I swear.” There was a short and comfortable silence that settled over them after that, and it was only broken when Liam could no longer handle it, “Where are we heading to first?”

“Well, we’ve got to stop off at Sainsbury's first,” Louis drummed against the steering wheel with his words, throwing a smile at Liam who returned it as if going to a supermarket was the best thing in the world. His eyes crinkled around the edges in the way that Louis liked so much, and he could actually believe that Liam really was happy again. Though, with Liam looking so happy at just doing the simplest of things with him, Louis wasn’t sure that he would be able to keep up with that. If Liam looked at him so fondly for the whole trip, he was sure that he would end up saying something stupid very soon. Instead of following that thought, he shook his head to clear his head before beginning to babble, “There’s just a few things we need to get: some snacks, beer, music, maybe some more blan-.”

He was cut off by the shrill beep of his phone, the patter of it against the cupholder that it was in rang through the entire van. They reached for it at the same time, Liam clicking his tongue at his friend (Louis had a penchant for using his phone while driving). It wasn’t odd for Liam to answer for him; Louis was sure that everyone on his contacts list had been greeted by his roommate’s chipper voice on more than one occasion. Thankfully, he hit the speakerphone button so that Louis would be able to chip into whatever conversation was about to go on.

“Hello?” Liam held it closer to himself as he spoke, and Louis glanced at the phone as if he would be able to see who it was if he looked long enough.

“Liam? It’s Jay,” called the honey-sweet voice that Louis knew oh-so-well. He only hoped that she wouldn’t embarrass him like she seemed to love to do when it came to Liam. “Is my menace of a son with you?”

“Hey!” Louis’ face scrunched a little, the ghost of a smile on his lips just waiting to take over when his faux look of offense faded. He could never be seriously insulted by his mother; she had inherited her thick skin, so there was little that she could say that would seriously affect him.

Liam cackled at the both of them before tacking on a, “Yes, he’s here, and he’s being absolutely awful, Jay; he’s actually doing something nice for once, can you believe that?” That earned him another hit to the arm, but he blocked it well enough that he didn’t drop the phone like Louis was hoping for.

Jay gasped loudly from the other end of the phone, playing along with the dramatics (Louis loved how she loved them just like him), “Oh please, I don’t know if my heart can handle to hear such talk.” There was a moment of commotion on the other end, a bit of yelling, and Louis could tell that the twins were probably getting into something. When his mother spoke next, she sounded like she hardly cared about the spat that was no doubt going on in the other room, “What are you getting Liam into this time, boobear?”

Louis cringed at the affectionate nickname, reaching to tweak Liam’s nipple when he dared to tease Louis for the name. “I’m taking him on a road trip,” he told her, mid tweak, “so that he’ll stop being miserable.”

“Ah, that’s right,” her tone had turned into something a bit more sad, a little twinge in it as she directed her next words to Liam, “Your mum told me that you were going through a bit of a rough patch with your lady friend; I’m sorry to hear that it’s wearing down on you, love.”

There was a pause from Liam and Louis looked over to see why he hadn’t answered yet. He looked a bit paler than he had been before, and he stared down at the phone with wide eyes before he finally answered her, “How much did she tell you about that?”

“Just that you two were arguing about the future,” Jay answered, though it sounded a lot like she knew more than she was letting on. Louis knew when his mum was keeping something to herself, but Liam didn’t seem to recognize that; he just let out a sigh of relief and accepted her words without further question. “Is everything alright between you two?”

Liam scratched the back of his neck and let out an insincere chuckle, “Well, we actually called it quits a week or so ago.”

“Oh no,” came her slow reply, and Louis had to roll his eyes at the fact that the surprise and sadness in it sounded as real as Liam’s laugh a few seconds prior. She was fully aware of Louis’ feeling for Liam, and she wasn’t doing a good job at hiding the slight hope in her voice. Later, Louis would probably admonish her for that, but he couldn’t pretend like a part of him hadn’t been happy when he had found out that Sophia had broken up with him. “That’s horrible, dear,” that came out a bit better, but Louis could still hear the lilt in her voice that meant she was having trouble hiding her happiness.

“It’s not that bad,” Liam insisted, sparing a glance at Louis and offering him a smile before he went on, “After all, I’ve got Louis with me.”

She laughed at that, smothering it soon after as if she knew that it might come off the wrong way, “I’m sure that he’ll take good care of you.” That made Louis’ hands grip the steering wheel a bit tighter, feeling a blush creep up his cheeks at his mother’s words. Liam looked blissfully oblivious, but Louis knew exactly what she was implying. Sometimes he hated her for being so cheeky (that’s a lie; he could never hate her). “Well, listen, you boys have to stop by here at some point,” she started up, sounding as chipper as always.

The older of the two boys groaned at his mother’s words and sighed out, “Mum,” as if it was a warning.

“Oh hush,” she called back to him, and Louis knew that she would be pouting if she was right there with them, just to make Louis feel like a bad son. He prided himself on being the exact opposite of that, actually; he liked to think that he was one of the best sons out there. “Is it a crime to want to see my own son?”

There was a snicker from Liam and a loud sigh from Louis, “No.”

The next time that she spoke, Jay sounded as if she had won some sort of game, “Liam?”

“Yes, ma’am?”

Though Louis knew that his mum hated it when Liam was so formal with her, she didn’t mention it when she spoke, “Please promise me that you’ll drag him here if you have to. I’d like to see you both soon for dinner.”

Louis found Liam’s wide smile to be absolutely unbearable; it should be a crime for Liam Payne to look so comfortable and happy when talking to _Louis’_ mum as if he’d like nothing more than to stay on the phone with her for hours at a time. He knew that they talked during the school year every now and then, and maybe that made it even worse. Liam was already so much a part of his entire life, and he could say the same thing about himself in Liam’s. They were comfortable enough to call each other’s mothers just because they felt like catching up, and they could speak candidly to anyone else in the family as well.

“I promise that we’ll come around,” Liam told her, grinning from ear to ear as she went on to tell them about what the twins had been doing since the last time that they spoke. Louis watched with his own fond smile, wondering how he ever wound up so lucky, and his thoughts turned sappy before he could stop them. It had only been a day into their trip, and Louis was already wondering how he would be able to control his thoughts and words when it came to Liam. It was easier when they had classes all day and sometimes only saw each other for an hour or two at a time due to studying. They had been alone with each other, but never for a whole summer, and Louis was hoping beyond hope that he would be able to keep his sappy thoughts to himself. If not, he might just ruin everything. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for this being late and a bit eh. I might not update for a bit because I have to buckle down to write my book by the end of August! I'll update when I can, thank you to whoever is reading right now.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry has a bit of a soft spot for guys who have an Irish accent and can make a good art joke. Is that such a bad thing? Well, it might be for Niall.

**HARRY & NIALL**

“What exactly am I looking at?”

It probably should have occurred to Harry that Niall would be an absolute menace at an art exhibit. Apparently, he hadn’t learned his lesson from the multiple times he dragged Niall to museums and exhibits in Surrey. There wasn’t an ounce of artful thinking in the lad’s body. And even though he knew all of that, he sighed, “You would know if you read the plaque.”

Niall’s eyebrows raised at Harry before he leaned towards the silver plaque to the right of the abstract art. After pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, he read, “ _A Portrait of a Woman Singing_.” Then, he glanced back at the painting, “It certainly doesn’t look like that.”

Another exasperated huff later, Harry leaned some of his weight onto Niall’s shoulder as he pointed to the plaque. “The artist has chromesthesia, Niall; it’s a portrait of a woman singing made from the colors that the artist saw because of the notes that were being sung.”

Of course, the mention of anything science had Niall all ears. Suddenly, he looked towards the painting with a new interest, and he even reached out as if to touch it. Thankfully Harry didn’t have to swat his hand away from the painted canvas because Niall simply traced the swirls of it in the air. “I’ve always wondered what it’d be like to see sounds.”

“Jeremy from the third floor says that he can,” Harry said, a grin lined his lips because he knew exactly what Niall would say.

“Yeah, well, Jeremy does acid so that’s not a surprise.” Despite how it probably wasn’t  _that_  funny, Harry cackled loud enough to gain a few narrowed looks. Niall looked more than a little smug at his accomplishment, and he watched Harry with his own grin as Harry desperately tried to smother the laughter.

Once he had managed to get a hold of himself, Harry dragged Niall to the next painting. It was another abstract that looked like it was trying too hard to be a Picasso. As much as Harry wanted to appreciate it, he found himself watching Niall instead. Even with all of the wonderful art around them, Niall was still the best piece Harry’s eyes.

Eventually, he got caught staring, and Niall sent him a furrow-browed look. “What?”

Harry’s cheeks heated up in a way that must’ve given him away, but he managed to form a somewhat coherent answer, “I was just thinking about how thankful I am that you invited me to do this.” By some miracle, Niall seemed to believe that that was all that was on Harry’s mind.

There was a smile that was Harry’s favorite on Niall; it was a particularly disarming and blinding one where his eyes scrunched up with the intensity of it all. While it was a bit goofy, it always managed to knock the breath out of Harry, and when Niall used it right then it was no different. “You’ve thanked me about a thousand times and we’re not even an hour out from Surrey, Harry. I wanted to do this just as much as you did,” he reassured Harry before he glanced towards the very odd abstract in front of them and his smile dimmed, “Well, not exactly this part of it, but I wanted to hang out with you. We’re mates, after all.”

The words  _mates_  hung in the air even after Niall had moved on to the next painting. It left a sour taste in Harry’s mouth that he hated (though it might have had something to do with the weird veggie smoothie he’d had earlier). At the end of the day, Niall still saw the trip as a fun summer holiday with a mate. And, even though he tried not to, Harry couldn’t help but to wish that it was more.

What made it all worse was that he knew that it was such a fucking cliche. He’d read thousands of books and seen hundreds of movies that warned against falling for your—very unavailable—best friend. Even with all of those flashing warning signs, he still fell head over heals for Niall that first year in Uni. He’d be much better off trying to chase away his feelings.

When Niall turned around, stopped in a space between one painting and another, his voice pulled Harry out of his trance. “You coming?”

Instead of answering, Harry simply took a few steps to catch up with him.

 

 

 

As per Harry’s agreement, Niall dragged him to one of the nearest pubs that looked homey enough for a quiet night out. It was a sinking little building in Reading that was nudged between two clothing shops. The faded green paint on the swinging sign atop the door bore a shamrock and the words  _Joel’s Beoir agus Bia_. Harry knew it was Gaelic—Niall had told him as much in an excited shout—but he didn’t quite know what it meant.

The inside of the pub was like something out of a movie; it was dimly lit like all pubs should be, and the walls were made of thick slabs of sanded, stained, and waxed wood. Alternating tiny Irish and UK flags hung from strings tied to the rafters above their heads. A few stubbly men sat at the bar, a few others at the booths that were closer to some TV that broadcasted rugby. Niall was like a kid in a candy shop.

As soon as they slid into seats at the bar, the bartender wandered towards them. He was young—probably just a few years out of Uni—and he had an almost ridiculously large nose that was pink at the tip even though the pub was rather toasty. A well-trimmed beard matched his short chestnut hair, and the charm of his smile wasn’t lost on Harry. Since he was easily over six feet, the bartender had to lean against the bar’s counter to talk to them comfortably. “My name’s Ray, and I’ll be your bartender for the night. What can I get for ya?”

The bartender, Ray, definitely had a more than noticeable Irish accent; Harry was almost ashamed to admit that he wanted to swoon. He’d always adored Niall’s accent, mainly because he was a fan of the lilt of Irish accents in the first place. Somehow, he managed to not fall out of his chair when Ray sent him another dazzling smile, and he answered with as much grace as he could manage. “Can I get a Shirley Temple?”

Ray nodded before he turned towards Niall and took his order of a modest Guinness. Once he turned his back to get them their drinks, Niall turned towards Harry, “Wish we had a place like this back in Surrey. Did you see the sign outside? I haven’t seen Gaelic since I left Ireland. Fucking mental, Haz.”

It was nice to see Niall enjoying himself—as much as Niall tried to reassure Harry that he didn’t mind the exhibit from earlier, he’d also made it obvious that it wasn’t exactly his idea of a good time—and Harry couldn’t help but shake his head with a smile. He knew better than most that Niall got a bit homesick during Uni. That’s why the proposition of the trip had caught Harry so off guard, after all.

“It  _is_  nice,” Harry agreed as he glanced around the little bar yet again.

Ray slid their drinks over to them along with a few shamrock shaped coasters before he focused a curious gaze on Niall. “So, what part of Ireland are you from?”

“Mullingar,” Niall answered right away, his pride for his hometown shining through in his smile even as it disappeared behind the rim of his frothy drink.

“Ah, Mullingar. I have a few Aunts over that way. I’m from County Cork myself. Born and raised?”

“Yep.”

Eventually, Ray’s attention turned towards Harry, and his smile widened just enough to make Harry’s cheeks burn. “And what about you, lad?”

“Up by Cheshire; I’m afraid I’ve never been to anywhere in Ireland.” Harry plopped the cherry from his drink into his mouth, and he didn’t miss the way that Ray’s eyes followed the sweet fruit when his lips wrapped around it. Still, Ray covered it with a quick and easy smile.

With the grace of someone who was used to it, Ray grabbed a dirtied pint glass from the nearby and wiped it down with a rag all while he looked at Harry, “That’s alright; I’ll allow you to stay in here.” As much as he tried not to snort out laughter, Harry couldn’t really help it. “Actually, you’re not the first British bloke to come in here today. Usually, we just get homesick Irishmen looking for a bit of a craic, you know? But I had a lad from Donny in here along with a friend of his. Fairly sure the friend drank his weight in beer.”

Niall laughed and raised his own beer with a cocked brow, “Fuckin’ hell, wonder what he was drinking to.”

“Some bird, if I heard right.”

Again, Niall choked out a laugh, “Well, I can understand that then.”

For some reason, Ray’s gaze settled on Harry once again. “Don’t know if I can: never quite liked birds.” And oh, that was why he was looking at Harry with that sweet smile on his lips. Harry’s cheeks burned once again, and he tried not to smile too widely when Ray sent him a wink. Niall looked between them before his eyes narrowed and he took a slow gulp of his beer. “I don’t think that I caught your name earlier.”

“I’m Harry,” he punctuated it with a small wave, and the rings on his right hand caught the light ever so slightly.

Beside him, Niall leaned back in his chair with a look on his face that contrasted his earlier mood so much that Harry almost wanted to question him about it. Instead of a polite smile, Niall shrugged when he replied, “Niall.”

“What’re you two doing up this way?”

Harry sipped at his drink through his straw before he looked at Niall and realized that his friend had no interest in answering. “We’re going on a trip around the UK since Uni’s out right now,” he supplied.

“That explains it; what’re you studying, if you don’t mind me asking?” Ray slipped closer to where Harry was instead of staying in his spot just opposite of Niall. The quick shift didn’t go unnoticed by Niall, who sulked in his chair even more if that was possible.

“Well,” Harry began as he pressed his pointed finger into his bottom lip, “Niall is in Biochemistry, and I’m in the Art History program.”

Ray’s eyes lit up immediately, and he leaned further across the bar’s counter as if he needed to hear Harry a bit better, “Ah, I should have known that someone who looks like art would be studying it. Who's your favorite artist? I'm personally a sucker for Rembrandt.”

Harry couldn’t have kept from blushing madly even if he tried, but he tried to hide it behind his long hair. Despite his best efforts, both Ray and Niall caught the reaction. “I've always loved Monet,” he eventually responded.

It earned a playful guffaw from Ray, “How could you not? I mean, have you seen  _Poppies_?”

“It's actually my favorite.” His red straw poked at his bottom lip as he smiled, and Ray’s eyes got caught on that smile. Harry wasn’t  _trying_  to flirt, but he had to admit that it was nice to have the attention. It's been a year since he’d brought that one boy up to his and Niall’s dorm, and he hadn’t had many people show interest in him since then. So what if he was enjoying the little smiles that Ray sent his way?

When Niall spoke up, effectively breaking the silence that Ray and Harry shared, there was a somewhat perturbed tone in his voice, “I like that one with the letters that mocked the Mona Lisa.”

For a moment, Harry was too wrapped up in the reverie of being flirted with that he didn’t understand what Niall meant. Then, he was reminded of the time that he had taken Niall to a history museum with the L.H.O.O.Q. on display. The mention of the raunchy parody made Harry’s brow furrow, and he gave Niall a pointed look, “Niall, that's so crass!”

“That's alright, it's all just art, yeah?” Niall shrugged.

Niall knew just how passionate Harry could get when he made statements like that, and he bore an almost smug look when Harry’s mouth parted with the start of a long rant. However, Ray somehow managed to beat Harry to the first word, and Niall’s smug look was wiped away. “Oh no, it's far more than all just  _art_ ; there's expressionism and impressionism, surrealism and cubism. I could go on but—” Ray looked towards Harry yet again, that same easy and charming smile lined his lips, “I'm sure that I'm just telling you everything that you already know.”

Niall scoffed, a much different reaction than what Harry was used to when he told Niall the exact same things, “You know a lot for a bartender.”

A fond smile took the place of Ray’s previous one, and he busied himself with something behind the bar while he replied, “I grew up with an art teacher for a mother and an art museum curator for a father so I was sort of destined to love it.” When he turned around again, he plopped another cherry onto Harry’s half full drink.

“Then what are you doing here?” He plucked the new cherry up by the stem and bit into half of it; the red juice from it stained his lips before he ate the other half of the cherry and licked up what was left. That time, both Ray and Niall had watched the enticing spectacle. Niall grumbled something unintelligible before he downed half of what was left in his glass.

Once Ray had recovered from the sight of Harry eating the cherry as obscenely as possible, he answered Harry’s question, “I'm sort of a starving artist; have to have some way to pay the bills until someone calls me to paint a masterpiece on some church's ceiling, right?”

A Da Vinci joke: Harry wanted to swoon. “You're an artist?” Ray nodded. “That's amazing! What's your style?”

“Mainly photorealism.” He scratched his neck as if it was something to be embarrassed about, his cheeks even tinted red for a few seconds. “But I'm trying to get into surrealism.”

As much as Harry loved learning about art, he had never been able to make any of his own. He’d had a sketchbook for years and had tried to force himself to learn more than stick figures, but it never quite worked out. So, the mention of anyone who could paint, draw, or even doodle was amazing to him. “Wow, I'd love to see your work sometime.”

Ray’s hand brushed against Harry’s when he went to refill his drink, despite how it was still only halfway gone. “I could bring you around one day if you're that interested. Maybe even ask for a picture or two so that I can draw you; that smile of yours would be enchanting to everyone.”

By that point, Harry had given up on trying to hide his embarrassment, and he simply giggled as he sipped at his refilled drink, “Thanks, I—”

He didn’t get a chance to finish because Niall cut in while he sent what could only be called a bitter look towards Harry, “We don't really plan on staying in the area for long.”

Ray’s smile dropped, which appeared to be a victory in Niall’s eyes if the small grin on his face was anything to go by, but he soon held a sadder looking smile, “That’s a shame.”

There were a lot of things that Harry didn’t handle well, and disappointing people was one of them. So, he rushed to put the blinding smile back on Ray’s face, “You know, I’d love to see how well you’d be able to get my eyes; I’ve always liked them the best. Maybe you could take a picture and I could see the finished product on our way back to Surrey.”

Even though there was a groan from Niall right beside them, they both ignored it in favor of sharing giddy looks. “Sounds like a plan.”

Niall’s chair scraped against the wooden floor, and he dug into his pocket for whatever he thought would cover his and Harry’s tab. “I think I’m going to head back to the hotel.” Even if Harry had tried to convince Niall to stay, he was confident that it wouldn’t do much good. So, he watched Niall trudge out of the pub that he had been so excited to visit, and he couldn’t help but notice the odd lurch of his stomach. Despite the desire to follow Niall, he stayed in his seat. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If nothing else, it's reassuring that all that's riding on Liam and Louis' possible romantic future is twenty quid.

**LOUIS & LIAM**

Showing up to the Tomlinson-Deakin household empty-handed was a punishable offense. Louis managed to share that simple fact with Liam about a thousand times before they left Tesco with a “fresh” blueberry pie in hand. Liam also nicked a bouquet of flowers that he tried to hide from Louis’ view for as long as possible (because _of course_ he was going to try to win over Jay as much as Louis already won over Karen).

 

The creaking Volkswagen Van pulled into the driveway of the Tomlinson-Deakin household a whole hour later than Louis promised. Still, the second that the headlights flickered off, the front door to the house swung open and a string of his siblings piled out. The two oldest, Lottie and Fizzy, staggered behind his mum’s first set of twins, Phoebe and Daisy, and they all launched themselves at Louis when they reached him. He had to pass the pie to Liam just so that they wouldn’t make it topple onto the asphalt.

 

“Mum said you’ll be gone _all_ summer!” Phoebe poked him in the chest, sounding more than a little accusing.

 

He looked up at the house, expecting to see his mother in the doorway, but it was empty for the moment. “Not _all_ summer, but it’ll be a few weeks until I come home for a proper visit. I’ve got to get Liam here all sorted out.”

 

They all looked towards Liam then, who was no stranger to the Tomlinson family, and Phoebe and Daisy even abandoned Louis to go hug him. “Hello, girls! How was school this year?”

 

“Some of us are still in school,” Lottie told him, and she sagged with the words as if it was the worst news. God, Louis was glad to have left A-levels behind.

 

“And I’m sure that some of us are crushing it.” Louis draped his arm over her shoulders, not before mussing up her hair, and then motioned for all of them to follow he and Lottie into the house.

 

Candles must’ve been burning somewhere in the house because it smelt of vanilla and cinnamon all around. The cozy comfort of home enveloped him the second that he stepped inside, and he slipped his arm away from Lottie so that he could sneak into the kitchen. Liam stepped in close behind him, and Louis glanced back at him for only a second before he peeked inside the kitchen.

 

There were few things in the world that could bring a smile to Louis’ face faster than seeing or even hearing his mother. By the time he caught sight of her leaning over a pot on the stove, he was practically bouncing on his heels. One of his sincere grins tugged at his lips as he spoke, “Whatcha making?”

 

She jumped, and the ladle in her hand plopped into the pot as she whirled around. A smile that matched his own took over her entire face, and she clapped her hands together excitedly before she pulled him into a tight hug. He practically wheezed with the force of it. “You’re home!” she squeezed him a little tighter when she spoke, and she only let him go when she spotted Liam. Apparently lost for words, Liam thrust the bouquet out for her to see. “Oh, are those for me? You’re an absolute doll, Liam.”

 

Liam’s cheeks went a little pink around the edges, but he offered her the puppy dog smile that managed to turn everyone in Louis’ family to mush. “And you’re as lovely as ever, Jay.”

 

She smacked at his chest with the flowers and shook her head at him before she took the pie from his other hand and set it on a nearby counter. “You dog,” she laughed, her gaze shifting to Louis as if her next words could only be heard by him, “Only single for a few weeks and he’s already chatting up a married woman. Keep him in line, Louis.”

 

Louis tried to hide his laugh behind one of his hands, but Liam let his own full belly laughter fill the room. It didn’t stick around for long, though, because one of the twins reached into the room and tugged Liam off into the living room to show him something. It left Louis alone with Jay, and she wrapped him in another hug. “God, I missed you,” she sighed, “How much trouble did you get into this semester?”

 

Louis’ chuckles shook them both, “ _Loads_.”

 

“That’s my son.” She turned back towards the pot, seemed to realize that she lost the ladle to the soup inside a while ago, and started to try to fish it out.

 

“Is Dan around?”

 

“Hm? Oh, no, he had to take a late shift tonight, but he said to call him later. He wants to discuss the lineup for Manchester United.”

 

“Oh, I’ve got a lot of feelings about that.”

 

She smiled down at the soup. “He thought you might.” For a second, she let her eyes drift towards the doorway of the kitchen when laughter came from the living room. “How’s he doing?”

 

That was a difficult question for several reasons. For the first few days of their trip, Louis was sure that they were making progress. Liam was laughing and belting out songs from the radio like nothing changed. Then they visited a little Irish pub not too far out from Surrey and Liam got so pissed that he couldn’t tell a trash can from a person on the way back to the van. Breakups were always hard, but Louis just wished that he would be enough to take Liam’s mind off of it.

 

So, Louis answered as truthfully as he could, “I don’t know.”

 

Jay hummed thoughtfully. A triumphant little noise left her mouth when she finally found the ladle, and she looked at Louis as she rinsed it off. “Give him time to work through it at his own pace, but don’t let him stew in it too much. It’s good to process things, but brooding is never really attractive.”

 

When she went back to stirring the soup, Louis wrapped his arms around her shoulders and rested his chin on her head. “I don’t know, you should see Liam when he broods; I’d say it’s pretty attractive.”

 

“You did pick a good looking bloke to fall for, didn’t you?” she teased, and she blindly nudged him with her elbow as she giggled. For a second, Louis panicked over whether or not Liam could hear what she said, but there was still laughter in the living room. Thankfully, she wasn’t being very loud.

 

“He’s alright,” Louis shrugged, but he knew that he was understating Liam immensely. Liam’s huge heart was what caught Louis in his orbit, but his looks were definitely a gigantic bonus.

 

Of course, Jay saw right through his words. She nudged him in the side a few more times. "You know, it's a shame that neither of you could get pregnant because that boy would make some beautiful babies."

 

Louis groaned, " _Mum_."

 

"What? Karen thinks the same about you!"

 

He tried not to stumble back, and he instinctively looked towards the doorway again. The surface of his cheeks burned without his permission. "Karen? You've been talking to Liam's mum about things like that?"

 

"Oh yeah, all the time! Did you know that she didn't like Sophia at all?” The confession made Louis’ brows tug together in confusion, but Jay wasn’t done. “'Said that she tried to convince Liam not to date her for weeks before she realized that he was just too stubborn."

 

"Why would she do that? I met Soph; I might not have liked that she was dating him, but she was a perfectly nice girl." Well, that was before she broke Liam’s heart. Now he hoped that he never had to cross her path on campus again.

 

Jay forced herself out from under Louis’ arms as she went to a cupboard and pulled out a pile of nice plates. As she passed them (and some silverware) over to him, she fixed him with an almost exasperated look. "Lou, we've been trying to set you two idiots up since the first semester."

 

"Idiots?” he guffawed but took the plates all the same, “Gosh, why don't you tell me how you really feel, mum."

 

She rolled her eyes at him. "You two are just so oblivious." Before he went to go set the table behind him, he glared at her and just barely caught her responding smile. "I mean that lovingly."

 

" _Sure_."

 

"But honestly, if this little thing between you and Liam doesn't happen by the end of the summer, I'm down twenty quid and Dan wins again." She patted his back and went to leave the kitchen, intent to let him mull over the conversation as she went to tell everyone that dinner was ready. Louis called out after her, though,

 

"What’s the point of betting against him if you share your paychecks?!"

 

"Don’t rain on my parade!"

  
  
  


Dinner was anything but quiet. The girls reached across the table and grabbed at the rolls and butter that Jay left out for everyone, and it was hard to have an intelligible conversation when everyone seemed to speak at once. Of course, the girls finished their food first and shuffled out of the kitchen; none of them much liked Blueberry pie. The second they left Louis was put on edge. He didn’t like the scheming look in his mother’s eyes while she cut them all hefty pieces of the pie.

 

She didn’t actually speak up until Liam was just polishing off the last of his piece, though. "You know, your father and I met when we were on a road trip."

 

Like a baby that was suddenly jerked, Louis’ entire body tensed. The subject of his father was always a sore spot, and he didn’t appreciate the sudden shift of topic; he wanted to enjoy the last of his pie without feeling attacked. Still, he sat back in his chair, pushed around a syrupy blueberry, and tried not to sound too bitter when he chuckled, "Ah yeah, we know how _that_ turned out."

 

Jay nudged him in the side until he looked at her and then gave him an apologetic smile. "Hey, I got some good things out of that man."

 

"Like child support?" he joked.

 

There was a playful punch on his shoulder before she rolled her eyes at him and turned towards Liam. "Liam, tell him to stop being so daft."

 

When Louis looked up to see Liam’s reaction, he was met with so much fondness that he thought he might spit up candy floss. Liam couldn’t look more amused and happy if he tried. "Louis, stop being so daft."

 

Louis stuck his tongue out at his traitor of a best mate and then set his sights on Jay. "Clever, having Liam fight your battles for you."

 

“All I’m trying to say is that road trips are a time for fun and meeting new people, or getting to know someone a little better.” Her little hint of a wink at Liam wasn’t subtle, and Louis’ cheeks burned. The crust of his pie was suddenly much more interesting. It was taken from him when she got up and took the mostly empty plates with her, though.

 

“I think that Louis and I know pretty much everything there is to know about each other,” Liam scooted out of his seat with the words, and he went to help her at the sink but she swatted his hands away.

 

“You’d be surprised.” And when Liam looked over at Louis that time, there was a question in his eyes that Louis couldn’t quite understand. The thick eyebrows above Liam’s chocolate eyes creased together, and he opened his mouth as if to say something but must’ve thought better of it.

 

It wasn’t much longer before they were stood outside the door. All of the girls already said their goodbyes, and Liam and Louis were left to hug and kiss Jay as the sky darkened above them. "Liam, please tell your mother to come around with you sometime soon. Maybe we can all have dinner together before you boys go off to Uni again."

 

Liam beamed down at her enough to crinkle the edges of his eyes. "I'll make sure to tell her."

 

She stepped back into the house, starting to shut the door. "You two stay safe on your little trip! Call if you need anything."

 

Louis almost hated to leave, but he told himself that he would be back soon. So, he called back to her just before the door closed, "We will, mum, love you!"

 

They walked to the van as the energy left both of them, and they slipped into the leather seats with a sigh or two. They weren’t sad sighs, though, just content sighs like those that come with a particularly well spent day. As they pulled out of the driveway, Liam reached over to twist at a few of the hairs at the nape of Louis’ neck. "It's nice to know that my mum has Jay to talk to." Louis chanced a look over at Liam and was met with a dazzling smile. "After all, she needs someone to reassure her and me dad that you're not getting me into trouble."

 

A cackle slipped past Louis’ lips, "Please, I'm surprised that Karen doesn’t hate me for corrupting you."

 

An almost wounded tone filled Liam’s words, "Aw no, you know my mum could never hate you; you're like her favorite child and you're not even hers."

 

Louis really couldn’t help his smug smile. "I guess you, Roo, and Nic need to step things up. You could start by remembering to send her flowers on Mother's Day."

 

"I still hate you for that; you could have put my name on the card so that she would think that it came from the both of us. Plus, I remembered her birthday so sue me if Mother's Day isn't tucked away in my mind."

 

Louis gasped and smacked at Liam’s broad chest, only lingering for a moment, and tried to pay attention to the road. "That _should_ be a crime; I'm fairly certain that 'remember Mother's Day' is somewhere in the _Guide to Be a Perfect Son_."

 

“Oh, fuck you,” Liam laughed, shaking his head just as Louis pulled into the secluded car park where they would be staying for the night. A few other cars, filled with weary travelers just like them, dotted the area. They climbed into the back of the van where all of the pillows and blankets were laid out, and they changed as quickly as possible so that they could settle down for the night.

 

Bugs clicked in the warm summer night, and Louis was almost lulled to sleep immediately. The press of Liam’s forehead against his back was familiar, and part of him looked forward to when they would inevitably wake up in the morning with Liam’s arm wrapped around his waist. It was an easy little detail that came with how comfortable they were with each other, but Louis would never question it. He didn’t want to take the chance of having it change.

 

Just as Louis was about to welcome sleep, Liam’s voice rumbled against his back, “Hey, I saw the way that you got all tense when your mum mentioned your dad.”

 

The mention of the moment brought about the same sort of reaction. All of the muscles in his body seemed to contract, and he tried not to be too stiff as to keep Liam’s concern to a minimum. “What about it?”

 

“You know you can talk to me about that kind of stuff, right?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“It’s just that, we’ve known each other for years now and you’ve never really mentioned—”

 

“Liam, I’m really tired. Can we just—can we table this conversation?”

 

It didn’t take long for the regret to sink in. He was too defensive, he knew that, but he couldn’t help it. It wasn’t that he didn’t _want_ to share his past and his problems surrounding his father with Liam, but he had some reservations. Liam saw some pretty vulnerable moments in Louis’ life, but Louis wasn’t sure if he was ready to be willingly vulnerable. That took more time. Still, the quiet and almost… hurt quality to Liam’s response shook Louis enough that it almost changed his mind. “Yeah, yeah, I just… yeah, alright. Goodnight.”

 

Louis’ echoing word was hardly a whisper in the suddenly quiet van, “Goodnight.” 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry wasn’t stupid, and he wasn’t oblivious.

**HARRY & NIALL**

 

Harry hated few things more than wearing a suit. The sleeves always came up too short, and he could never decide between keeping the suit jacket buttoned or unbuttoned. If it was up to him, he would have shown up to the internship fair in his usual silky shirt and skinny jeans. It wasn’t up to him, though, because Niall had so much riding on his meeting with the people who could very well end up being his future employers. Harry didn’t want to draw attention away from him, and he certainly didn’t want to run the risk of embarrassing him. 

 

Everyone around them looked so unbelievably fancy, and Harry tried not to feel too out of place as he sipped on a glass of ice water. Niall, looking all the part of some swanky Wall Street banker, bounced his knees nervously as he sat in front of the open bar. The event was in some hotel ballroom, with stations set up all over for quick interviews. If one was to walk five feet in any direction, they were bound to run into a trifold about some internship. 

 

“God, this is a disaster,” Niall muttered. His thumb pressed against the condensation on the side of Harry’s glass, and he made dots and hearts in the dew absentmindedly. Harry just took another sip. 

 

“All you did was forget your pocket square, Niall; I’d hardly call that a disaster. I once forgot to wear shoes to an interview and I still got the job.” 

 

The teasing did little to stop Niall’s fretting; he simply shook his head and dragged a hand through his dyed hair. “‘S not the stupid pocket square, Harry. This whole thing is a disaster. I’m underqualified for the internship.”

 

“Just because you’ve got one more year left in Uni doesn’t mean you’re underqualified; you’re smarter than half the graduates this year, Ni!”

 

Still, Niall shook his head. “They’re never going to hire me.”

 

Harry huffed, “You’re such a prick to yourself, did you know that?” At least that managed to catch Niall’s attention; he looked up from the bar and stared at Harry as if he’d grown a horn on his forehead. “There’s absolutely no reason for them to turn you down. You’ve got enough experience for it, you’ve got the brains for it, and you’ve been preparing for this interview since I told you about the internship at the beginning of the semester. Settle down, Niall; they’d be crazy not to pick you.” 

 

For the longest moment, Niall didn’t say anything, and Harry was afraid that he was going to go unheard. Then, an almost tearful smile stretched across his lips, and Niall clutched at Harry’s shoulder like a lifeline. “Thanks, I needed that.” He allowed himself, just for a moment, to lay his head on Harry’s shoulder, but then he pulled back as if remembering some unspoken law against it. Still, he smiled at Harry. “I’m glad that I asked you to come along.” 

 

Though he wouldn’t say it out loud, Harry was glad too. Besides giving him the chance to spend more time with Niall, it was an opportunity for Harry to keep Niall sane. Maybe Niall wouldn’t admit it, but Harry knew him better than almost anyone else. Harry knew that Niall would drive himself to the edge and back with worry, and he knew him well enough to have all of the necessary words of encouragement ready. He could keep Niall in the right headspace. 

 

Niall glanced down at the sleek watch on his wrist just in time to mutter a curse under his breath. He pushed away from the bar, assured Harry that he would be right back, and hurried off to wherever his interview was supposed to be held. That left Harry to slink back in his seat once again, tracing over the spots where Niall just made hearts on his glass. 

 

It’d been awhile since Harry last attended church (maybe Christmas?), but he figured a short prayer wouldn’t hurt. Niall didn’t need the help, of course, he didn’t, but it would be nice to have the reassurance. After all, there was little else that Harry could do to support Niall when he was secluded to the bar. It wouldn’t have even crossed his mind if it weren’t for just how much Niall wanted the internship. 

 

What could have only been half an hour stretched into a lifetime, but eventually Harry heard the melodic sound of Niall’s voice drifting closer. He turned just in time to see Niall walking with two very proper looking women. They wore trim, black pantsuits and dazzling smiles that were almost intimidating. When they reached him, Niall beamed with pride as he introduced them all. “Mrs. Evans, Ms. Bhatt, this is my friend Harry; he’s the one that told me about the internship in the first place.” 

 

The woman with her raven hair pulled back in a ponytail, Ms. Bhatt, reached a hand out for him to shake. “Well, then, I guess we have you to thank for bringing him to us. He seems like the perfect candidate,” she looked positively giddy as she spoke, and Harry knew that that, and her words, were a good sign. 

 

Suddenly bashful, Harry scratched the back of his neck and tried not to look too pleased with himself. “Oh, well, all I did was forward him an email about it.”

 

Even though he was sure his reply wasn’t really funny, the red-headed woman, Mrs. Evans, laughed good-naturedly. “Are you studying biochemistry too?” she wondered conversationally. 

 

“No, I’m in the Art History field.” 

 

“Oh, how… lovely.” Harry wasn’t a fool. He knew that some people didn’t see the value of Art History. Even Niall used to be a bit pompous when it came to the gap between their future professions. From the look on Niall’s face at that moment, though, Harry knew that he took personal offense to the snobbish tone that Mrs. Evans held. 

 

After he forced a smile back to his lips, Niall spoke in Harry’s defense, “It’s an important field of study.”

 

“...Of course.” She didn’t sound like she believed it. And, even though Niall looked as though he was ready to recite one of Harry’s rants for her, Harry knew that it was useless. So, he rushed over his own response. 

 

“Well, it was wonderful to meet you, but Niall and I really have to run.” He hooked an arm through Niall’s just to reinforce the statement, and he gave both of the women a tight smile before they turned to leave. 

 

Ms. Bhatt spoke up at that, her smile slightly apologetic, “Lovely meeting you too, Harry. We look forward to working with you in the fall, Mr. Horan.”

 

Niall returned a similar sentiment, and then they ambled through the swarm of people in the room in order to get to the door. Niall’s smile fell. “Well, she was rude.”

 

That wasn’t really what Harry wanted to discuss, though. Instead, he settled on a much happier thought. “You got the internship!” 

 

They broke through the doors as another huge smile lit up Niall’s face. Those ocean eyes of his gleamed under the warm London sun. “It’s not entirely set in stone, but she said that she’s pretty confident about it. So, yeah, I got it!” Harry didn’t really care if they were in the middle of the sidewalk; he wrapped Niall up in a tight hug. Niall’s happy giggles shook his body, and the frames of his glasses dug into Harry’s shoulder a little as Niall pressed his face into the crook of Harry’s neck. All was well. 

 

Eventually, someone on the street bumped into them. They got the message, and they pulled away from each other so that they could walk again. Niall draped his arm over Harry’s shoulders. The weight felt nice. “I’m sorry about the whole ‘holier than thou’ thing, Haz.”

 

“Don’t worry about it.” He tried not to shrug, too worried about dislodging Niall’s arm. Instead, he settled into Niall’s side as much as he could (being taller than Niall had its downsides). 

 

“But you know I don’t think that way anymore, right? I know that I tease you and all, but I really think the whole art thing is great.” 

 

“I know.” It was a bit of a chance, but Harry pressed a sneaky kiss onto Niall’s cheek. “Thanks.” 

 

Perhaps he imagined it, but Harry swore that he saw Niall blush. 

  
  
  


The hotel that they were staying at was as lavish as could be expected for the budget of two Uni students. The beds creaked, and the tap from the sink was a little more than questionable, but the neighbors were quiet and the view from their window was great. It would have benefited from a remodel. Neither of them really minded the late 80’s vibe, though. 

 

As soon as they got through the doors and Harry stripped out of his constricting suit, Niall flopped down on his own bed and rattled through a blow by blow of the interview. Harry couldn’t really follow any of it. There were a lot of words he didn’t understand, all of them more sciencey than the last, but that was fine. He liked the way that Niall’s eyes lit up when he said them. That was what was important. 

 

About halfway through Niall’s retelling, Harry’s mum texted him to ask how everything went. When Harry mentioned that, Niall laughed. “Tell her it was a fucking success.”

 

“I’ll leave the ‘fucking’ out if that’s alright,” Harry chuckled, taping away his response. Then, he paused and looked up at Niall with furrowed brows, “You don’t load your texts with curses when you text her, do you?” 

 

The shit-eating grin on Niall’s face was answer enough. Harry threw his pillow at him. 

 

“Should I text Bobby too? Let him know that his son’s going to be interning for one of the largest research facilities in England?” 

 

“ _ Might _ be interning.”

 

“Stop being humble,” Harry deadpanned. Niall shoved his red and positively beaming face into the pillow Harry threw at him. “Should I tell him or not?”

 

“Nah, I’ll let him know when I actually get their decision,” the words were muffled by the pillow, but Harry understood him well enough. When Niall looked up at him next, he worried his bottom lip between his teeth. “Shit, this is insane, innit?” he shook his head and then rolled onto his back. The ceiling got the pleasure of receiving that breathless grin that Harry loved. For a second, all Harry could do was watch Niall. 

 

“Yeah, it is.” 

 

“Ms. Bhatt didn’t say for sure, but she mentioned connections to pharmaceutical industries in Ireland. I think she noticed the accent. You’d like Ireland, wouldn’t you, Harry?” It almost went unnoticed, that hopeful lilt to Niall’s voice. Harry caught it, though, and his heart stuttered in his chest. Niall spoke as if Harry was going to be with him wherever he went. Something in Harry knew that that was true. 

 

“Ireland would be lovely.” 

The smile on Niall’s face grew at that as if nothing made him happier than hearing that Harry found his homeland lovely. “Of course, it could take me to France too. That’s alright, though. You mentioned wanting to go to Paris, right? It’ll all work out.” A pause followed the reassurance, and Niall’s lips dipped at the edges. “This is if they end up asking me to stay…”

 

“They’d be stupid not to.” 

 

Just when Niall was about to say something, Harry’s phone dinged with another message. The text lit up the screen, a response to something he sent a few hours earlier. He smiled when he saw who it was from, and then cackled when he saw the picture message. 

 

From the other bed, Niall rose a brow at him. “Your mum again?”

 

“No, no,” Harry breathed out between his laughter, and he wiped at the corner of his eyes when happy tears spilled out, “It’s Ray”

 

Though Harry didn’t see the actual shift, Niall’s entire demeanor changed. Instead of all of the smiles from earlier, a sour glower painted his face and he turned towards the ceiling again. His shoulders drew together; the air around him practically crackled. It was impossible to sort out what Niall was feeling from his emotionless tone, “That bartender from the Irish pub?”

 

“Yeah,” Harry drew out the word, now speaking as if every word was a step across unstable ground, “He sent me a picture of one of those Mary and Jesus renaissance paintings where baby Jesus looks like an old man. It’s absolutely terrible.”

 

The contents of the text hardly interested Niall, if the now blank look on his face was any indication. “I didn’t realize that you got his number.” One of Niall’s hands went to his mouth, and he bit at the edge of his thumbnail. A bad habit that only came with nervousness or when he was upset. Harry couldn’t decide which fit this conversation. 

 

“He’s nice,” Harry shrugged, “He likes my art puns.”

 

“Mhm,” the hum held a skeptical edge. 

 

“Just because you don’t find them funny doesn’t mean other people can’t.” It was meant to be teasing, but it came just short of that and landed more on accusatory. 

 

Still, Niall wasn’t convinced. He drew his thumb away from his mouth, and his eyes narrowed at Harry. “People will laugh at anything when they’re trying to get into your pants.” 

 

A silence fell over the room. Harry’s cheeks burned. His eyes drifted down to his phone, and he tapped out a reply before he spoke. “And what’s so bad about that?”

 

Niall’s eyebrows drew together; he ran a hand through his brown hair. “What?”

 

“What would be so bad about him trying to get into my pants?”

 

The tables turned as Niall was the one with blazing cheeks. He stared, dumbfounded, at Harry until he stumbled over his words and eventually looked at the ceiling. “Jesus, Harry—”

 

“I mean, you do it all the time, right? You laugh at a girl’s jokes just to charm her. Maybe I want to be chatted up like that.” It killed Harry to say it, mainly because it was a reminder that Niall could flounce around however much he wanted, but apparently Harry couldn’t. Harry wasn’t stupid, and he wasn’t oblivious. He knew that Niall wasn’t alright with all the ‘gay stuff’; Niall was only okay with it when he was three sheets to the wind and shoving his tongue down Harry’s throat. Sometimes Harry wanted to scream at him for it. But he wouldn’t. Not now. 

 

Niall still didn’t say anything. All he did was set his jaw and stare up at the ceiling. 

 

A thousand words sat on the tip of Harry’s tongue, ready to fight their way out, but nothing actually came. Instead, he sat back against the headboard of his own bed and sighed. They spent the rest of the night in silence. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis doesn't open up about his past often, but when he does Liam is always listening.

**LOUIS & LIAM**

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Louis had dragged Liam to perhaps the seediest looking tattoo parlor in the Greater Manchester area. ‘FINBAR’S TATTOOS’ shone on a harsh neon sign, and Liam squinted up at the purple colors as if willing them to dim. The smile on Louis’ face was ten times as bright. That never meant anything good.

“Come on, it’ll be  _fun_. You already have, like, seven tattoos.” He tugged on Liam’s arm again. For the first time since they stepped out of the van, Liam actually budged.

As Louis dragged him towards the door of the, somewhat questionable, establishment, Liam continued to grumble, “What kind of name is Finbar?”

“I think it’s cool.”

“Of course you do.”

After he threw a quick glare over his shoulder at Liam, Louis pulled them both through the front door of the parlor. The paint of it peeled in an altogether discouraging way, and Louis reminded Liam once again that this parlor had a five-star review from almost everyone (there was one grumpy man who claimed to have gotten a kitten instead of a growling panther). “We need a souvenir for this little road trip,” Louis said.

Liam sighed, “Most people settle for postcards or bobbleheads.”

“Well, you can get a tattoo of a bobblehead, how about that?”

“That’s cool,” a voice called from just behind a nearby counter, and a man covered in tattoos and piercings whirled around on a swivel bar stool. It was hardly professional, given the way that he almost toppled out of the chair, but Louis’ smile only doubled in intensity. Everything about this man screamed ‘punk’, what with his styled onyx hair and the skull tattoos on his body. Yet, the way that he kept spinning around in his chair made him appear as harmless as a particularly zen four-year-old. The name tag on his shirt claimed him as the shop’s namesake: Finbar W. “I’ve never done a bobblehead before. I think I might be in a bobblehead mood today too.”

For a moment, Liam didn’t say anything; Louis had to jab him in the ribs gently just to pull his attention away from the swirling symbols on the man’s arms. “Oh, no I don’t think I’ll actually get a bobblehead. We just want something small.”

“Ah, fair enough. Anything in particular you want? I’ve got a book here,” and he beckoned them over with a wave of a hand that held at least six rings (one of them looked like a wedding band). Now that Louis wasn’t so focused on the tattoos, he noticed the Irish accent.

Liam glanced over each page, Louis’ chin hooked over his shoulder, and occasionally pointed to something here and there. Eventually, they settled on a page filled with odd symbols, and Finbar flipped it before they could get a good look at any of them. Right before Louis could ask about it, Liam pointed to something on a page. It was tiny, eclipsed by all the other tattoos. Still, there sat a little screw.

It was wasn’t the worst that they could pick, but Louis cocked his head at it. “Why that one?” He asked Liam, and even Finbar leaned forward for the answer.

Something flashed across Liam’s face, an emotion that Louis couldn’t quite place, and then he shrugged. “I don’t know, I just like it. It wouldn’t be the stupidest one you’ve got.”

That was true. Louis had a penguin slapped across his ass, after all (a nice reminder of one of his exes). So, he patted Liam on the back and then pointed to the skin just beneath his ankle. Liam nodded.

“Nice,” Finbar clapped his hands together with the word, and then hurried around the parlor to get things set up. Then came the part that Louis hated: the waiting. His adrenaline buzzed beneath his skin, and he fidgeted in the tattoo chair once Finbar led them over to it. The second that the whirring tattoo needle touched his skin, he settled. The sharp pinch of pain crashed over him like a wave and enveloped him in a kind of warmth. Perhaps it was odd, but he was almost sad when Finbar finished.

Liam slid into the seat after him, considerably more nervous even though several tattoos covered his arms. He tried to cover up his wince when the needle met skin by raising his arms above his head and closing his eyes. It didn’t work very well.

“You know, you never really told me about why you and Sophia broke up.”

He didn’t know why he said it. Maybe he thought it would take Liam’s mind off of the pain, but it was a stupid subject to pick out of all of the ones available to him. Hell, Finbar, with his spaced-out look at that moment, probably would have made better conversation. Still, he didn’t take back his words. Even when Liam flinched, Louis waited.

From his slumped spot in the chair, Liam sighed. “We just wanted different things. You know, commitment and all that.”

Though Louis couldn’t say exactly how he knew it, he just knew that Liam wasn’t telling him the whole truth. He also knew that he shouldn’t push Liam to explain until he was ready to do so on the own. That didn’t stop him from opening his mouth to protest, only to have Finbar beat him to speaking.

“Commitment is a big thing,” he said, his expression still spaced out even though what he was saying made sense, “Sometimes it’s easy and you just know that you want to be with that person; that’s who you need to hang onto. Like, I proposed to Sharon three weeks after we met. Together for five years now.”

The words sunk into Louis’ very core, and he looked down at Liam just as Liam looked up at him. He wouldn’t say it out loud, wouldn’t dream of ever doing something that foolish, but he knew exactly what Finbar meant. Ever since he realized that he had feelings for Liam, all he could think about was a future that included his best friend. What hurt was knowing that he wouldn’t have anything more than a best friend in Liam. He just had to be okay with that.

Stiffly, Louis laid a hand on Liam’s shoulder and sent him a smile. “You just have to find someone that doesn’t leave you guessing about how much they want to be with you.”

Finbar tacked on an emphatic, “Exactly, man.”

And, as Liam looked up at Louis with an unreadable expression on his face, he whispered out his own reply of, “Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

 

 

 

Five hours later found them lounging on a colorful blanket beneath the stars. Louis had no idea of where they were, but there were rolling hills all around them and Manchester was far enough away that the light pollution didn’t block the dazzling and dizzying stars. Perhaps it was the lovely feeling of contentment that swirled around them that loosened Louis’ lips. Perhaps he just wanted Liam to share his own truths about him and Sophia. Perhaps he was tired of keeping his own secrets.

“My father left when I was three.”

Liam shifted beside him, immediately alert and listening. This was important. Louis was rarely the first to willingly bare all.

The only trouble was that Louis stopped right there, and it didn’t sound like he was going to continue. It was just hard to put the feelings into words. His past wasn’t just his; the  _pain_  wasn’t just his. Still, when Louis looked over and saw Liam waiting patiently, all the earnestness in the world in his eyes, Louis couldn’t stop the words.

“I was little so I don’t remember much, but he calls sometimes. Do you remember that one time where I skipped Music Theory and told you I was sick?” Liam nodded right away; Louis never missed their major classes unless he had to. “Well, I had actually just gotten a call from him about how he wanted to meet up with me. I hadn’t seen him in  _years_  and all he wanted to talk to me about was his second family.”

“Shit.” Liam shook his head, “God, Louis, I’m so sorry. I wish you would’ve told me.”

“It’s not like it would’ve changed anything, right? I would still be insignificant enough for him to not care about.”

Liam’s brows furrowed and Louis had to look away, back towards the stars that twinkled above them. “Don’t say that.”

“Why not? It’s true, Liam. I mean, Mark left my mum too, even after I begged him not to. And Zayn just fucking dropped me when he got accepted into that fancy art school.”

“That has nothing to do with  _you_ , Louis. They were the ones that made the stupid decision to leave.”

Louis knew that Liam could tell what he was thinking even though he didn’t respond. Nothing had to be said, really, not when Louis still didn’t believe Liam. Still, Liam’s hand nudged his on top of the blanket. Eventually, their fingers wove together.

"You've got me, and I’m never going to leave."

Despite everything, Louis couldn’t help but smile as he spoke, "Yeah." And it dawned on Louis quite suddenly that he'd never considered that Liam would be the same as his father or Zayn. Liam was a constant.  _Simply there_.  


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, the things that Niall says and does confuse Harry.

**HARRY & NIALL**

Things had mostly settled between Harry and Niall when they made it to Tate Britain. Well, that would be true if one considered ignoring the entire issue ‘settling’ it. Either way, it appeared as if nothing happened. Harry thought that that was alright. It was better than fighting.

Still, the conversation hung in the back of Harry’s mind as they wordlessly walked the halls of the great museum. He glad for the distraction that the art brought. Even better was the realization that a new ‘Baroque’ exhibit had been installed over the spring. Harry practically squealed as he dragged Niall towards it. Though Niall made a startled noise, he soon chuckled at Harry’s excitement.

“You know, I would’ve followed you if you told me where you wanted to go,” Niall assured him, but Harry just shushed him as he saddled up beside a group of people gazing up at one of the paintings. This was Harry’s favorite art period. He glanced around at the different paintings, hoping to see a certain one. As soon as he spotted it, he pulled Niall along with him.

"Here it is; one of my favorites from a class I had last semester,” he said, and he looked up at the masterfully composed painting in awe.  _David With the Head of Goliath._  He desperately wished that he could reach out and touch the canvas, even if it was only a replica. “Caravaggio painted this after he murdered someone and went on the run. Goliath is meant to be a self-portrait."

"That's a bit fucked."

"Tell me about it." Harry’s eyes caught a set of Caravaggio’s paintings right next to the first, and he shuffled along. Niall, true to his word, followed dutifully. "And these? These are the  _Calling of St. Matthew_  and the  _Martyrdom of St. Matthew_. Isn't the shading brilliant?"

Niall nodded beside him, clearly impressed. "It's very realistic."

"But it's more than that."

"What do you mean?"

Harry would never admit it, but he loved when Niall asked questions, even if Harry prompted them. Talking to other people in his major was great, but  _teaching_  someone? That was what he loved. So, with the biggest grin on his face, he explained, "Look at the way that the shadow is blocking Jesus; in any other painting of Caravaggio's time Jesus would be the focus, but it's Jesus _' hand_  pointing at Matthew in the calling of St. Matthew." As he took a breath, Harry glanced at Niall for a second, saw that Niall was staring at him with the start of a fond smile, and then jumped back into his explanation with a new passion. "And then in the  _Martyrdom_  painting, he puts the light on St. Matthew's killer. He draws attention to where no one expects it to be; he calls out the sinner instead of the saint."

"Beautiful." But when Harry looked over at Niall again, Niall still watched him carefully. That fond smile finally took up his whole faced, reached his eyes, and he only wiped it away when he saw that Harry was focused on him instead of the painting. Niall cleared his throat. "It's impressive."

Harry was determined not to dwell on the look that had been in Niall's eyes. Instead, he turned back towards the painting. "More than impressive; it was innovative and revolutionary. You know, some people say that he was the one who marked the beginning of the Baroque period."

"And that's your favorite period?"

Harry shrugged. "Besides Modernism." A cheesy smile slipped across his lips as he turned to another painting in the grand hall. His words we almost predictable. "But you know what they say, 'If it's not  _Baroque,_  don't fix it'."

Beside him, Niall started to cackle and Harry was startled by it; he looked over his shoulder at him. It was almost impossible to tell if it was genuine laughter or not. Niall never laughed at his art jokes. "That was good."

"Really?” he didn’t mean to sound so disbelieving, but he really didn’t know why Niall would find  _that_  funny out of all of his other jokes. “I think it was in  _Beauty in the Beast_. Not my best."

Regardless, Niall patted him on the back as he passed him, and then let his hand fall. It just barely grazed Harry's arm until Harry thought (if only for a second) that Niall was going to hold his hand. Just as quickly as the touch came, a fleeting press of Niall’s fingers at his wrist, it was gone.

“Isn’t this nice?” the words pulled Harry out of his almost trance-like focus on where Niall touched him. He looked up as Niall smiled back at him. There was something hesitant in that smile.

“What?”

“You, talking to  _me_  about art. I like art, you know.”

“You hate art.” Perhaps  _hate_  was a strong word, but Niall definitely wasn’t thrilled about it. Hell, that was why Harry was so surprised when Niall suggested this entire trip. While Niall learned to view Harry’s major as just as important as his own, he still pretty much viewed art as looking ‘good’ or ‘bad’. There was nothing wrong with that, of course.

Niall scoffed at him, though a smile soon followed it. “That’s slanderous, Harry.” He sighed then, and he shook his head as he looked around at the other people that filled the hall. When he spoke again, it was hushed, “I just don’t like it when people get so perfervid about a streak of black paint on a canvas.”

A furrow-browed look contorted Harry’s face, “And I don’t like it when you use words that I don’t know.”

All Niall did was roll his eyes at him before motioning for Harry to join him at his side. Harry decided to let it go then. It was better not to worry about whether or not Niall was trying to dredge up the previous day’s conversation. If he were, and it was his way of trying to convince Harry to talk to him about art instead of Ray, it wasn’t going to work. Though, when Harry’s phone buzzed in his pocket, he didn’t check it. Instead, he followed Niall into the modern art installation.

Oddly shaped statues and paintings that looked a lot like someone threw up on canvas littered the room. In a place like this, Harry could lose himself for hours while he tried to figure out what the artist intended to convey in their work. Conversely, Niall seemed content to flit around the room. A single glance and a short hum were all he really needed.

Eventually, they both stopped in front of a section of brick wall laid against the originally pristine white walls of the room. On it was a marvelous picture of two men holding hands. Though it was spray paint, it was surprisingly detailed, and Harry could almost make out faces for the two men. Something about it screamed familiarity and intimacy. The emotion it captured was almost impossible to grasp. Even Niall seemed enraptured.

Harry glanced down at the plaque:

Zayn Malik

_Friends & Lovers_

Spray Paint on Brick

Jan 2015

As he read, Harry felt Niall’s hand graze his own just like in the Baroque exhibit. When he jumped at the sudden touch, Niall pulled away. He rushed over his words, “This is like that one artist you talked about; Banksy, right?”

“Yeah, kinda,” but Harry wasn’t really focused on the wall anymore. Even though Niall was staring at the brick wall, Harry could almost see the cogs as they turned in Niall’s head. It was a leap, but Harry gingerly nudged Niall’s hand. Niall’s pinky hooked around his own before his usually rosy cheeks reddened even more. Then, he moved on to the next art piece.

Later that night, Harry tried not to dwell on that little touch. It meant nothing, he told himself. He couldn’t let himself think that there might be a real chance between Niall and him. If all that happened were a few drunken kisses, he had to be okay with that. And yet… and yet, the almost  _vulnerable_  look on Niall’s face when their pinkies hooked together made Harry a little too hopeful.

He fell asleep with a smile on his lips. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis and Liam hit a bit of a snag.

**LOUIS & LIAM**

How was Louis supposed to know that the engine on the Volkswagen was going to give out on them halfway through Derbyshire? Okay, so maybe the very low renter's fee was a bit of a tip-off. And maybe he shouldn’t have rented it before he was able to test drive it. The important thing to note, and he would remind Liam of this several times, was that the van only made a few concerning noises up until that point.

“The towing service says that they won't be able to send anyone out to pick us up for another three hours. Apparently, there was a pile up somewhere.” Louis sat down beside Liam on the pavement just as he slipped his phone back into his pocket. The heavy sigh that greeted him was rather dramatic, but Louis supposed he didn’t really have room to judge. He all but threw himself onto the hood of the smoking car when they first broke down.

“You know,” Liam started, “We wouldn’t be stuck in the middle of nowhere if you hadn’t insisted on taking the  _scenic_ route.” And, just to exemplify how absolutely done with Louis he really was, Liam let his chin drop onto his palm with another sigh.

“We’d be stuck on some busy highway if I hadn’t.”

“We might’ve been able to hitchhike that way. Would’ve at least gotten us to a rest area.”

Louis narrowed his eyes at him, but he leaned against Liam’s shoulder nevertheless. He really was exhausted. “You never know what kind of creep might pick you up.”

“Oh yeah, and we’ll fare much better out here; if anyone is going to pick us up in the middle of the countryside it’s going to be a fucking murderer.” There was no real bite in the words, but Liam wiggled his shoulder so that Louis would lift his head. While Liam wasn’t exactly  _angry_ , Louis could tell that sitting next to a beaten up and smoking Volkswagen on a hot summer day wasn’t exactly his idea of  _fun_. Of course, Louis wasn’t quite sure if he could turn this around. He had to try, though.

“If we  _do_  get murdered you’ll probably be first.”

“What?” Liam scoffed, “Why?”

Despite how Liam already kicked him off of his shoulder once, Louis let his head slump to the spot once again. “You’re a bigger threat than I am; I mean,  _Liam_ , look at those arms.” Louis fit his hands over Liam’s biceps to illustrate his point and certainly not because he wanted to feel Liam up.

At least Liam wasn’t brooding anymore; he actually laughed and raised a brow at Louis. “Yeah? I’ve got better endurance than you, Louis, and if we have to run I guarantee that I’ll get farther than you.”

That wasn’t really an arguable point, mainly because Liam went to the gym almost every other day at Uni (what’s  _wrong_  with him?). Louis, on the other hand, could proudly say that the only time that he stepped foot in a gym was to pick Liam up from it. Or to sneak glances at Liam working out. But that last reason wasn’t important.

Still, Louis scoffed and shifted his gaze towards the countryside that stretched all around them. Peak District National Park wasn’t too far if he was remembering right, and Nottingham was even closer. Maybe he could convince Liam to walk on foot. They’d either reach a gas station or they could keep going to Nottingham and pretend to be shitty Robin Hoods (shitty because they had neither the gold nor the skill with a bow and arrow). He shook his head to clear it and shrugged, “Guess I’ll just die.”

Liam huffed, “Well, I wouldn’t let _that_ happen.”

Almost disbelieving, Louis laughed and shoved him, “Don’t get all stroppy; we’re being hypothetical you numpty.”

Just because Liam was just as much of a child as Louis (when he wanted to be), he shoved Louis back with his own laughter. “Twat.”

Louis smacked his hand on his chest and gasped, “Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?” All Liam did was shove him again (though it had a lot less force behind it). Louis sighed and settled back into his spot. “I’m sorry I rented a car from a dodgy internet person.”

Liam hummed, “It’s a shame that MrShadyMcShadyson turned out to be so disreputable.”

That definitely  _wasn’t_  the internet salesman’s name; Louis wasn’t  _that_  daft. He shoved Liam again for good measure. “Very funny,” he deadpanned, “But what do you want to do about this? I don’t really have enough money to fix up this piece of junk unless I use up the money for the trip. And I can’t get an actual car rental because those things are damn expensive.”

“We can cut the trip short, Louis. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“But it is.” Louis hated whining, but Liam looked as though he was going to make this so difficult. “This is supposed to be a trip to help you have fun.”

Liam sighed and he sagged like the simple action took all of the air out of him and left him utterly deflated. He dropped his hand down to Louis’ ankle, the one where the tattoo was. When his finger brushed against the new screw tattoo, Louis jumped at the slight pain. “And it was fun, but sometimes things don’t work.”

Though he tried not to, Louis frowned at him. “Liam—” And he would have continued if it wasn’t for the sound of tires rolling across the asphalt. He whipped his head around to look down the road. Sure enough, a little grey Nissan was coming their way. Rubbernecking was definitely a problem wherever one went, but Louis thought that this car slowed down a little more than necessary for one quick look. Then, it slid to a halt right next to Liam and Louis. Louis would be lying if he said that he wasn’t about to grab Liam and bolt. The murder nonsense was meant to be… well, nonsense.

Then, a curly-headed boy poked his head out of the passenger window and stared down at the quizzically. “Liam?”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Perhaps Harry needed some more people to tag along on his and Niall's trips. It wasn't that he thought that they should be chaperoned... well, Harry already questioned his resolve, so it was probably for the best.

**LILO & NARRY**

The last thing Harry expected to see while he and Niall were heading north through Derbyshire was a familiar face. Well, first he noticed the beat-up Volkswagen, and then his eyes landed on the two blokes that sat beside it.

“Hey, wait, slow down,” Harry tried not to grab at Niall’s arm, seeing as that was a bit of a safety hazard, but he did nudge him.

Though Niall did as he said, he still grumbled, “We’re not going to stop to help them, Harry; they could be murderers.”

“No, no, I think I know them,” Niall grunted, but it sounded more inquisitory than upset, so Harry didn’t feel as bad when he told Niall to actually stop. The swooping quiff of brown hair and puppy dog brown eyes were easily recognizable, even before they stopped right beside the two boys. Harry poked his head out of the car. “Liam?”

As clear and deep as he remembered, Liam answered back in much the same tone, “Harry?”

That was all it took. Harry got out of the car—Niall’s protests following him the whole way—and he pulled Liam into a quick hug. “Hey! What are you doing all the way out here? Is everything alright?” He spared a glance and a wave to the boy who was pushing himself to his feet. There was something devastatingly pretty about him; it might’ve been the cheekbones. Or the steel blue eyes.

Liam’s teeth peeked out in an uncertain smile, “Well, kind of. Louis and I were in the middle of a road trip but our rental car gave out on us; we’re waiting for a tow right now.”

From his peripheral, Harry could see Niall parking their car on the side of the road. Harry shifted his gaze to the other boy, Louis, and he couldn’t help but beam at him. “So  _you’re_  Louis?” Louis nodded, unsure of whether or not the emphasis was good or bad. “Liam and I used to be in the same Craft of Argument class way back in Freshman year. He talked about you  _a lot_.”

A cough and a nervous look from Liam was enough to tell Harry all he needed to know. Liam always talked about… well, it seemed as though nothing had really changed since he last talked to Liam. “All good things,” Liam recovered, smiling fondly at Louis.

Niall jogged up to be by Harry’s side, and he was barely there for a second before Liam directed the conversation to him. The subject change was less than smooth. “You must be Niall,” he greeted, sticking out a hand to shake. Niall took it gracefully.

“I guess we’re all guilty of talking about our roommates,” Harry quickly butted in, just so that Liam would understand that he too hadn’t made any progress. While the initial awkward feeling settled over the group, Harry couldn’t help but be happy. He didn’t make a lot of friends at Uni, and he was hit with a wave of nostalgia when he saw Liam. They had a nice repartee back in the day.

When the silence looked like it was about to drag on, Niall cleared his throat. “You guys are having car troubles?”

As if he’d forgotten that their van currently had a steady stream of smoke coming out of the hood, Louis looked back. He sighed dramatically. “Yeah, and right when we were in the middle of our road trip.”

“And what’s the occasion?” Harry wondered, nudging Liam ever so slightly. The ground became a lot more interesting apparently, because Liam refused to take his eyes off of it as he blushed. Louis answered for him.

“Liam’s getting over an ex; I’m trying to get his mind off of her in a way that doesn’t involve drinking.”

“But drinking is  _fun_.”

Harry jabbed Niall with his elbow and Niall rubbed at the spot while he glared at Harry. Then, as a sheep in a nearby field bleated at them, Harry remembered something. His gaze settled on Louis, “Wait, you’re from Donny, aren’t you?” Louis nodded, though he didn’t look like he knew where Harry was going with that question. “Did you guys visit an Irish pub near Surrey about a week ago?” Another nod. “No way! The bartender mentioned you guys! That’s crazy; it’s like we’ve been following the same route or something.”

Niall leaned towards them and shielded his mouth to speak as if only to Liam and Louis. “Harry’s a big believer in serendipity.”

Harry rolled his eyes but focused on the two boys in front of him when he spoke, “It is a bit serendipitous, isn’t it?”

“It’s a coincidence, Haz.”

“Tom _a_ y _to_  tom _ahto,”_ Harry insisted. “It’s like a sign, Niall. We should help them out.”

Both Louis and Liam’s eyes widened, but Liam beat Louis to his words, “Oh no, we would hate to impose—”

For once, Niall seemed to be on the same page as Harry. He cut Liam off with one of his dashing smiles. “Nonsense, I was going to offer to help anyway. We’re on our way to a restaurant further up towards Peak District. If you want, we can take you and your stuff with us and sort everything out there.”

Liam and Louis exchanged glances, both of them sharing what appeared to be a silent conversation before they both nodded and Liam smiled sheepishly at Niall. “Thanks, that’d be great.”

 

 

 

“I can’t believe you accidentally sent a professor a sext; who even has their professor’s number in the first place?” Niall almost snorted as he brought his beer to his lips. Everyone was shaking their head at Liam by that point of the story. Harry was in stitches.

A low groan slipped past Liam’s lips and he threw his head back, but there was definitely a smile tugging at his lips. “I was his Teacher’s Assistant at the time.”

Louis’ hand was at the back of Liam’s neck, slowly rubbing away at the tension that was there. They were a surprisingly handsy pair for not actually being a couple. Part of Harry wished that Niall was comfortable with that sort of  _platonic_  affection. Then again, that might’ve made his feelings even more prominent.

“I’m sure that, if you hadn’t had the bit about panties, he would’ve called you into his office hours and pulled out a bottle of Merlot,” Louis chuckled.

When Liam straightened up, he schooled his face into something serious. The red tint of tipsiness bled across his cheeks, and he focused on Louis for a moment. He didn’t actually speak until Louis took a drink of beer. “I only drop my trousers for Chardonnay.”

Just like in the movies, Louis spit his beer all over the table. It would’ve been absolutely disgusting if it wasn’t hilarious. Harry lost it. Even Niall chuckled beside him, draping an arm over Harry’s shoulders casually.

After Louis was done cleaning up his mess and glaring at Liam, he let out a dry laugh. “Classy, Liam.”

As the two bickered across from them, Niall leaned in to whisper in Harry’s ear, “See, drinking  _is_  fun.” Harry smiled, not because Niall’s lips lingered a little near his cheek, but because the whole night turned out better than he thought it would. The car ride to the restaurant had been a little awkward. No one wanted to break the ice. But then Louis launched into a story about one of the pranks that he pulled on Liam in freshman year, and it was suddenly like they’d all known each other since the dawn of time. It felt as if they were simply catching up after some time apart.

The drinking was less a part of it. Niall was one beer away from crossing into his ‘touchy’ self. The arm draped over Harry’s shoulder was just a start, and Harry didn’t know if he could handle any more of Niall only wanting Harry closer when he was drunk. So, he laughed at Niall’s words, but shook his head. “Yeah, but I think you’ve had enough; It’s getting late.”

That shook Niall out of some trance apparently, because he turned to look out of one of the restaurant’s windows and grunted. “Damn, it is getting late. We should get to our hotel.” Then, he looked back to Liam and Louis. “What’s the plan for you guys?”

Louis shrugged, “I’ve got enough saved for a motel; we passed one on the way that we can walk to. Then I’ll probably call my mum to see if she can pick us up.”

“And cut your road trip short?” Harry asked with a frown.

“Hard to have a road trip without a car.”

Niall spoke before Harry had a chance to, “You could tag along with us.” And, even though it wasn’t Harry’s idea, he was completely in favor of it. Sure, the summer wouldn’t just be him and Niall that way, but that might be good. With the way things were going between them, maybe they  _needed_  other people to keep anything from happening and screwing things up.

Liam and Louis looked more than thankful, but uncertainty bled through Liam’s words, “We don’t want to be a bother.”

“ _Nonsense_ ,” Niall insisted, “You two are cool; it’d be great to get to know you both. Plus, you both keep up with football. Haz is useless when it comes to that.”

“ _Hey_ ,” Harry protested, though his offense was insincere.

“You’re sure?” came Louis’ voice.

Niall looked to Harry, who nodded, and then smiled back at them. “Yeah! It’ll be great. You can come with us to all of the museums and we can share the hotel rooms if you guys don’t mind sharing a bed with each other. I can guarantee that’ll be better than some dodgy motel.”

Louis clapped his hands together, absolutely chuffed. “Then yeah! Let’s do this.”

And it was all well and good. Until they actually got to the hotel room and settled in for bed. Perhaps Niall didn’t realize, or maybe he did (Harry couldn’t tell), but doubling up in beds would mean that he and Harry would have to sleep together. It wasn’t an issue. Well, it  _shouldn’t_  have been an issue, but Harry’s overactive mind played it up. By the time that Niall slid beneath the covers next to him, his heart hammered violently against his chest.

In all of their years of knowing each other, Niall and Harry never shared a bed. It was odd really, because they were  _friends_. They were friends. Harry told himself that, reminded himself not to be too hopeful, as Niall shifted around and eventually flung his arm over Harry’s waist. They were friends. So why was it getting harder to tell himself that every day?  


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Louis offers some of his (famously terrible) advice.

**LILO & NARRY**

 

Objectively, there was nothing particularly hilarious about the statue exhibit at the museum they stopped at. That didn’t stop Louis from whispering the word ‘dick’ every time they passed a nude male statue. It was always enough to send Liam into a fit of giggles after him  _ every time _ . And, wow, they were really sickening. Harry almost wanted to laugh at them. Not the dick jokes, though. He wouldn’t let himself stoop that low. He’d leave the dick jokes to Louis and Shakespeare, thank you very much. 

 

Eventually the pair wandered off down a different corridor, and Harry was left with Niall’s arm around his shoulders as they ambled through the hall. Niall was saying something about France. As much as he hated to admit it, Harry stopped listening a while ago. Rambling was common with Niall. 

 

“...and a little flat in Ireland would be nice, right? I know that the economy’s a bit shit right now, but with pharmaceuticals? I think we’d be set. There’s tons of museums down in Dublin too, Haz. We could get our masters’ at Trinity. You know, that’s where I wanted to go before Surrey--”

 

Harry gasped when he spotted a particular statue, and he practically sprinted away from Niall. He didn’t mean to get so excited. It’s just… the  _ details _ . It took all of the restraint in him not to reach out and touch it. The veiled face of a woman sat there, looking so real that Harry almost expected to see the marble fabric sway with a breath. Gods, the amount of talent that had to have gone into that… 

 

“Oh, wow,” Niall said once he finally caught up to Harry. No teasing remarks or cheeky challenges. They were both in awe. 

 

The moment was broken by Liam and Louis’ raucous laughter in the next hall over, of course. As much as Harry wanted to stare at the statue in front of him for the rest of his days, he also needed to make sure that they weren’t about to get all of them kicked out. It was a good thing that they checked, because they found Louis in a compromising position with a precariously balanced vase. Harry let out a strangled noise that sounded a lot like a squeak. 

 

“What are you doing?”

 

Louis carefully, and ever so slowly, tipped the vase back onto the stand. “It was about to fall, I swear.”

 

“And  _ why  _ was it about to fall?” Niall almost held the tone of Harry’s mother when she caught him trying to peak at Christmas presents a day early. 

 

Liam beat Louis to the first word, “It was all Louis’ fault.”

 

“ _ Hey! _ ” Though he didn’t correct Liam, he did cross his arms like an indignant child. It would’ve been funny if Harry’s heart wasn’t still hammering away in his chest. A no doubt priceless vase had almost met its end due to a bit of rough housing. Why did Harry have the distinct feeling that he and Niall had invited a pair of toddlers to tag along with them?

 

Niall leaned into Harry as he whispered, “Maybe we should split them up; save ourselves a lofty bill from this place.” 

 

As much as Harry really didn’t want to agree—Niall was just starting to ask really great questions about art—he knew that it would be a good idea. So, he hesitantly nodded and watched as Niall caught Liam’s attention and drew him away to look at some other antique. That left Harry with a very mischievous looking Louis. 

 

They didn’t have much time to talk the day before. Louis was almost always wrapped up in a conversation with Liam, and Harry didn’t quite know what to think of the older man. Sure, Liam told him loads of stories about the antics that Louis got up to, but that was different from actually talking to someone. And, now that he and Niall would be spending most of the summer with Louis and Liam, the pressure was on to get along. Maybe he should start with something that Louis was sure to like… 

 

“Did you know that Van Gogh tried to be a musician before he started painting?” Harry was almost never nervous about nailing jokes when he said them to Niall, but he couldn’t muster up the same confidence right then. Liam called Louis the king of jokes; what if this one was too stupid? Louis’ now blank expression didn’t really reassure him. “He didn’t have the ear for it, though.”

 

Louis remained steadfast in his silence. 

 

“Get it? Because he cut it off…” 

 

For a few seconds, there was nothing, and then Louis’ lips smoothed into a stunning grin. Within seconds, he was at Harry’s side with his arm nudging its way into the crook of Harry’s elbow. They walked into the next exhibit like dapper dinner party guests. “That was a terrible joke,” Louis told him, but the words were soft and Harry couldn’t really bring himself to feel upset, “Do you only know Art jokes? I hope that’s not how you’re trying to win over Niall.”

 

Harry spluttered, “How did you—”

 

“I’m very observant,” Louis smirked triumphantly, but Harry didn’t buy it. He wasn’t  _ that _ obvious, was he? When Harry raised a brow at Louis, the older man cracked. “Alright, Liam told me.” Harry groaned at the admission. “But it’s not his fault; I had a hunch so I asked him about it, and he’s a terrible liar so it was easy to figure the rest out.” 

 

“Niall can’t know,” Harry insisted, so deathly serious that his gaze could probably level any of the statues around them. 

 

Louis made a big show out of crossing his heart, “Of course not.” They walked in silence for a few seconds, admired the magnificent artwork, until Louis nudged him in the side. “So, what’s stopping you from making a move on that Irish lad? Are you afraid that he’s not going to be good in bed? Does he not laugh at your terrible art jokes?”

 

As much as Harry  _ wished _ that it was something as easy as that, he shook his head. “Niall is as straight as a board.”

 

Though he wasn’t focused on Louis, he could still hear the skeptical tone in the older man’s voice when he spoke, “But what about all of that touching? The little private whispers and the blushing that was going on last night? You guys looked positively cozy.”

 

Of course they did. That was last night, after Niall had his fair share of beer. “He only gets that way when he’s tipsy and beyond. I might as well be invisible when he’s sober.” 

 

Louis tsked at him, “See, part of me just doesn’t think that’s true.” When the words managed to be pieced together in Harry’s mind, he looked up at Louis. Instead of meeting his eyes, Harry was greeted by his profile. No, Louis’ eyes were trained on the backs of Niall and Liam who were a good ways away. When Harry looked up, he caught Niall looking back at him. They both looked away quickly. Beside him, Louis chuckled. 

 

Still, Harry held strong. “No, no. Niall really doesn’t like  _ gay stuff _ .” 

 

That did little to stifle Louis’ laughter. “I said pretty much the same exact thing until I met Liam.”

 

Harry perked up, “You like Liam?”

 

“We’re not talking about me right now,” Louis waved him off, and then rolled right on through, “My point is that maybe Niall is scared to admit that he likes ‘gay stuff’ or maybe he likes ‘bi stuff’, hell even ‘pan stuff’. What’s important is I’m fairly sure that what he definitely likes is  _ you _ .” Even though Harry tried to protest, tried to explain that that just wasn’t how it worked, Louis went on. “Listen, you don’t have to take my advice, but I would highly suggest starting little.” 

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Obviously Niall doesn’t mind a little… touching. Just try to take it a little further bit by bit. I mean, don’t shove your hand down his pants, but maybe flirt with him a little more than you usually do. Make it a little more obvious. And don’t do anything when he’s drunk; I’d say that’s a bit creepy.” 

 

If Louis bothered to stick around, Harry would have asked  _ how _ exactly he should go about doing all of that. He was too nervous to try half of it; what if Niall completely shut him out? However, Louis broke away from their linked arms and wandered away with a wave. Soon, he snatched Liam away from Niall and the two disappeared into another exhibit. Niall stared back at him with a dubious look and a shrug of his shoulders. 

 

Right. He just had to up his flirting game. That should be easy. 


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which some valuable things are said, but not taken to heart.

**NARRY & LILO**

 

One more button. That’s all that stood between a semi-clothed Harry and a half-clothed Harry. His silk button up was already open enough to reveal the butterfly tattoo on his stomach (which Niall always teased him about, but Louis apparently thought was ‘ _ sick, bro _ ’). It wasn’t too big of a jump; he’d worked up to this night just like Louis suggested. A few little touches here, and a suggestive look or two there. Still, the thought of walking out in an almost see-through, more than half unbuttoned, shirt was ridiculously daunting. 

 

Just outside the door of the hotel bathroom, Harry could hear Niall bickering with Louis about football. Every now and then, a laugh would punctuate their words, and Harry’s anxiety went through the roof. Perhaps he could just tell them that he was feeling under the weather. It’d be better if he didn’t go…

 

But that wasn’t really an option, was it? When Louis suggested that they all go to a club in Leeds, Niall beamed at the idea and looked directly at Harry. He  _ wanted _ Harry to be there. Harry couldn’t just bail at the last second. Though, perhaps he could get away with wearing something a little less brazen… 

 

Before he could consider sneaking out to try and find another shirt or perhaps button up his current one all the way to the collar, Louis burst through the door. He took a moment to wolf whistle at Harry, not helping Harry’s nervousness at all, before he shoved him out of the bathroom. “Sorry, ‘ve got to piss!” it wasn’t exactly elegant, but it was a good enough excuse. Still, it left Harry to stand in front of Liam and Niall. 

 

“Hey,” Liam greeted him excitedly, that teddy bear like happiness on his face even though he’d seen Harry not even fifteen minutes ago, “You look great!”

 

Niall looked up from the screen of his phone and promptly dropped the device on the bed between his legs. It bounced gracelessly onto the floor. After he cleared his throat, picked up his phone, and stood up, he made his way over to Harry. “You’re really going to wear that?” Niall wondered, only a few steps away with an unreadable expression. 

 

Harry shrugged his shoulders with as much nonchalance as he could manage, “Why not?”

 

“Harry, I can practically see your tits,” Niall grumbled, and he moved to do up some of the buttons. Harry didn’t stop him. 

 

“I think he looks proper fit!” Louis called out from the bathroom, a meddling smile in his voice, “Don’t you, Niall?

 

Niall muttered out something that wasn’t quite an agreement but was nowhere near a denial. Once he’d almost done the shirt up halfway, he seemed to notice their proximity, and he jerked away from Harry. It was a small defeat. Harry tried not to be too disappointed. 

 

Though he didn’t look Harry in the eyes, there was a fairly obvious blush on his cheeks, and he huffed to himself for a second. “There, that ought to be enough to keep the sleazebags away.” As soon as Niall turned away and Louis slipped out of the bathroom, the cheeky lad popped one of the buttons and sent Harry an encouraging wink. Apparently, Louis thought it was working. 

 

The club brought a whole host of other issues. Niall was right to worry about the extra few buttons; quite a few eyes followed Harry as he wove through the crowd with the others. The entire time, Niall kept his hand circled around Harry’s wrist. It was a certain sort of comfort. 

 

Liam and Louis were quick to grab a few beers from the bar before they found a booth at the outskirts of the dance floor. Niall, for once in his life, didn’t order anything. Harry, on the other hand, went out on a limb. It’d been three years since he last had any sort of alcohol, but he was with friends, and he really had nothing to lose if Louis was right. So, he ordered a screwdriver and weaved his way back to the table. 

 

“You hate drinking,” Niall reminded him the second that he sat down. 

 

Instead of answering him right away, Harry took a big swig of the sweet drink and tried not to cringe too much at the vodka that slid down his throat. “And  _ you _ ,” he said once he’d swallowed, teasing his lips with the drink’s straw, “always say that I need to let loose.” Testing the water, he leaned towards Niall and let his hand rest a little above his knee. A honey dipped smile slipped onto Harry’s lips. “I guess you’re getting what you want.” 

 

“I—” Niall choked on whatever he was going to say, and Harry withdrew as suddenly as he’d advanced. Even he had to admit that it was a bit of a thrill; for once, Niall was the flustered one. 

 

Harry downed even more of his drink before he nodded to a speechless Liam and a beaming Louis. “I think I’m going to go dance, either of you up for it?” 

 

No one really answered, and Harry slipped away from the table so that he could make his way to the dance floor. Sweaty bodies pressed in all around him, and he dodged people who held their drinks above their heads. It was easy to get lost in the rhythm and forget about the crowd, though, especially with the alcohol working its way through his system. It was freeing in a way. 

 

When a pair of brown eyes caught his, and the gorgeous owner of them made his way over to Harry, Harry didn’t even think twice before he accepted the offer to dance. It was a little awkward at first (Harry never quite understood the logistics of club dancing), but he soon figured out that actual “dancing” wasn’t involved. Part of him was thankful for that. He was a terrible dancer, after all. But the other part of him froze up when dancing turned into grinding. 

 

It didn’t last for long. Almost as soon as Harry settled into it, pushed away the blush on his cheeks and let go a little more, the hands on his hips went away. Harry looked behind him only to catch Niall’s gaze. “Got tired of sitting around?” Harry shouted over the blasting music. 

 

“Something like that,” Niall answered, his eyes narrowing into a glare that followed the man who had been behind Harry only moments before. “Maybe  _ you _ should sit down, though.” 

 

Harry pouted at him, “I just got out here.” 

 

“And you chugged your drink before you left the table,” Niall pointed out, his brows furrowed, “That’s a good way to get fucked, you know? You’re supposed to nurse it.”

 

“Maybe I want to get fucked.”

 

Though Harry couldn’t hear it over the pulsing of the music, Niall’s lips parted around a gasp. Not wanting to see what the brunettes next expression would be, Harry turned to weave his way further into the crowd. A hand around his wrist stopped him. He looked back at Niall. “Dance with me?” there was something in Niall’s wide eyes that Harry couldn’t quite place. Considering that he might never get this opportunity again, Harry nodded. 

 

It was innocent enough at first. The bass of the song thumped through Harry’s buzzing body until his hands were numb. There was a fractional distance between them, small enough to be breached with a single step, and then someone shoved against Niall’s back. It forced their chests together, an uncomfortable position that Niall eventually remedied with a guiding hand on Harry’s hip. Soon, Harry’s back was to Niall’s chest, and a fire blazed in the places where their bodies met. 

 

Niall’s hands didn’t stray until the bass picked up. The hairs on the back of Harry’s neck stood on end as Niall’s nose skimmed the skin between his neck and shoulder. It was more intoxicating than the screwdriver. One of Niall’s hands dragged up to Harry’s stomach, fiddled with the buttons of his shirt, and snuck beneath the fabric to get to Harry’s skin. Despite his best efforts to remain unfazed, Harry shivered. He wondered what the people around them must’ve thought. 

 

Just as Harry felt the press of something against his backside, Niall jerked away. Perhaps he should have been expecting it, but Harry still threw a half-lidded glance over his shoulder. Niall’s face was ablaze with a dark blush. He stuttered over a few words about how Harry was probably tipsy, and how they shouldn’t—and then he pushed his way through the crowd. Harry frowned at the space where he just was before he watched Niall’s brown haired head bob through the crowd and eventually disappear into the bathroom. 

 

From their spot at the booth, Liam and Louis shook their head at the mass of dancers. “I suppose you’re to blame for Harry’s sudden change in behaviour?”

 

Though Louis tried not to laugh with glee, the smile bubbled onto his lips and his cheeky tone shone through his words, “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Liam. If Harry has decided to take his situation with Niall by the balls I had nothing to do with it.”

 

“Bull _ shit _ ,” Liam laughed, the boisterous kind that left Louis completely entranced. Instead of letting himself get lost in the noise, Louis kept his own smile as he guzzled down more of the beer in his bottle. It slid down his throat easily, and that loose feeling that came with drinking spread through his entire body. If he wasn’t careful about how much he drank, he might just find himself doing something stupid. 

 

For a while, they both were content with watching the aimless bodies on the dance floor. Everyone moved with abandon, and Harry was somewhere amongst them. Neither of them saw Niall emerge from the bathroom for quite some time, and when he did wander back to their table his hair was dishevelled and his lips were red. “Just had to take a wee,” he told them, though neither of them had asked. Still, Liam tried to make it look like he believed Niall and Louis… 

 

He tried not to let laughter bleed into his words, “Oh, I didn’t realize that ‘taking a wee’ had turned into slang for wanking. I’ll have to remember that next time I need to ‘take a wee’.”

 

Niall seemed to choke on his own spit, and he reached for a glass on the table to wash it away. It turned out to be Harry’s abandoned glass, though, and he spat it back out again. “Is there no fucking water anywhere?” he groaned. 

 

“You don’t fancy getting pissed?” Louis wondered with a raised brow. He downed a bit of his own beer. 

 

The base of the music shook the building once, and Niall waited for the unbearable noise to pass before he even tried to speak. With a glare out into the crowd (most likely in Harry’s general direction), he wiped as his reddened lips with the back of his hand. “I don’t fancy doing something I’ll regret.”

 

The shrug that Louis offered him was nowhere near sympathetic, and his words weren’t much help either. “Drunk actions are sober thoughts, mate.” 

 

Liam turned to Louis with adorably furrowed brows, his forehead creased in thought,  “I thought that it was ‘drunk  _ words _ are sober thoughts’.”

 

“Same thing,” Louis huffed with a roll of his eyes, “But I’m right, aren’t I, Niall?”

 

Though Niall didn’t answer him, his narrowed gaze and set jaw were the only replies that Louis needed. A smug grin stretched across his own lips, and Niall pushed out of the seat before he stumbled into the crowd of dancers again. However, before Louis could feel too accomplished, Liam threw his arm around Louis’ shoulders and whispered to him, “You know, if you push them too much you might just make a mess.” 

 

“Or,” Louis began, offering Liam an indignant look, “and this is the more likely scenario here, they’ll be sat around the fire fifty years from now with a whole legion of grandchildren while they gush about how I, Louis Tomlinson, was single-handedly responsible for getting them together.”

 

Liam laughed, but it wasn’t the fully genuine one that meant that he was going to humour Louis. “I’m just saying, Lou… back when Harry and I were talking in our classes, the things he told me about Niall always made it seem like the bloke doesn’t do well when he’s pushed. And I know that you like to tease people, but maybe lay off when it comes to him; he might not take it as well as some people.” 

 

And Louis knew that Liam was right, but that didn’t stop him from crossing his arms and huffing like a child. “Well then, I’ll try not to take it too far.” If Louis had the ability to look back, he would have known to try a little harder. 


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Louis gets pissed off.

**LOUIS**

 

Louis hated phone calls with his father for a lot of different reasons. They never went well, and usually one of them was angry when the call ended. A lot of the times, it ended up being Louis. For about a year at the beginning of Uni, he decided that he wouldn’t pick up anymore. It was easy to forget that anything was amiss. Honestly, the only heartbreaking part about it was just how utterly unmissed he was throughout that entire year. 

 

Phone calls from Zayn were worse. Louis blamed a lot of it on how Zayn knew just how badly Louis hated it when people left him, and yet the ass did it anyway. He blamed the rest on how they left things. The yelling and the few angry tears were all too easy to remember when Louis picked up the phone and heard Zayn’s smokey voice. Sometimes, if he was lucky, Liam was there to field the calls and keep him calm through it all. Louis was rarely lucky, though, and he also hated to pull Liam into the middle of things. After all, he knew that Liam and Zayn still talked every now and then. 

 

He was alone in the hotel room when his phone started ringing; the others went out on the town to find a nice place to grab lunch, but Louis’ most recent hangover was being a bitch. So, he groaned when the shrill noise filled the room and he slapped his hand around on the nightstand until it settled on top of his phone. Trying his best to sound like a functioning human being instead of a trash monster that pulled itself out of the gutter, Louis hit the ‘answer’ button without looking at the name on the screen. That was his first mistake. 

 

“Hello?” he grumbled.

 

“Louis?” Zayn’s voice was unmistakable, and he sounded a little spacey. Knowing Zayn and the people that he hung out with at that prissy art school of his, Louis wouldn’t have been surprised if Zayn was high. 

 

He dragged a hand down his face, tried to scrub away the sleep and anger that was already pulling his lips into a frown. “Why are you calling?” It was curt, but Louis had no time for pleasantries. Not after the shit that he went through with Zayn. Not with all of the hurt. 

 

“‘Wanted to hear your voice, mate,” there was a wistful quality to the words, “It’s been a while, yeah?”

 

Louis resisted the urge to hang up and instead pinched the bridge of his nose. His headache thrummed violently against his temples. “I’m not your mate, Zayn,” he said. 

 

“Yeah,” Zayn drawled out, the wistfulness replaced with obvious disappointment before he sighed and hesitantly trailed off, “Yeah, alright.” A long silence settled over them, and Louis stared down at the phone for a few seconds until Zayn decided to break the awkward pause. “You been drinking? You sound like it. I thought you didn’t get drunk anymore when Liam’s around.”

 

The words immediately put Louis on the defensive, “How’d you know I was with Liam?”

 

“Called him up the other day,” Zayn said, a shrug clear in his voice, “Thought I might catch you both at the same time. He said you both are on a road trip. ‘Said you’re trying to cheer him up.”

 

“He broke up with Sophia,” Louis told him, though he couldn’t figure out why. Zayn didn’t need to be kept updated on the ins and outs of their lives anymore. He lost that privilege the day that he told Louis not to visit anymore. However, he found himself going on as if he needed to explain himself. “Liam loved her, you know; he’s really torn up about it.” 

 

“ _ Sure _ .” It was sarcastic, and it held an edge that Louis thought sounded a lot like Zayn knew something that he didn’t. He hated that.  

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

When Zayn replied, it wasn’t with an answer to his question. Instead, he breezed onto the next subject. “I managed to get an installation into a pretty prestigious exhibit.”

 

“That’s—” It was great. About a year and a half ago, Louis would have been whooping and hollering with excitement and congratulations. But it wasn’t a year and a half ago. And, though he wanted to be happy for Zayn, the bitterness made it hard. So, he stumbled over a biting reply, “That’s great for you.” 

 

“Yeah,” Zayn said, slowly (infuriatingly slowly), “I sent a picture over to Liam if you want to see it. It’s something you would’ve liked I think. Lots of cool colours. You and Liam holding hands.”

 

Louis felt his entire mouth go dry in a matter of seconds. His heart stuttered. “What?”

 

“I used you guys as reference. I’ve got critics saying that they can really feel the chemistry through the art. It’s exactly what I wanted to convey.”

 

“What the fuck, Zayn,” there was no fondness in the words, no joking edge or good-natured nudge. There was nothing but unbridled irritation and the slight hint of panic. “Why would you do that? You  _ know _ that I haven’t told him how I feel.”

 

“Louis,” Zayn started, and the one word sounded so condescending that Louis wanted to scream, “It’s not that big of a deal. I’ve been telling you to tell him how you feel for ages. What’s the worst that could happen?”

 

_ He could leave me _ , Louis thought to himself, and the thought hurt to even consider. Deep down he knew that Liam wouldn’t do that; he never even considered the Liam was anything but a constant in his life. But the doubt crept in then, and it ate away at him while the conversation dissolved into silence on his end. He couldn’t scare Liam away with something as pesky as his feelings. 

 

Finally, Louis spoke again, “Fuck you.” he hung up after that. 


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which everyone learns something new.

**NARRY & LILO**

 

The car was deathly quiet. Harry loathed the quiet with a burning passion on most days, and normally he would try to fill the silence. Today was different. Today, all Harry wanted to do was curl up in the bed of the next hotel that they got to and forget that the night before that led to their current silence had ever happened. He wanted to forget walking up to the room that he and Niall shared at the hotel (a single room apart from Louis and Liam this time around; Niall managed to snag them their separate room for a good deal) only to hear Niall’s moans mixing with another, high pitched voice.

 

Needless to say, Harry didn’t get much sleep the night before. He couldn’t stomach actually going back to the room in the morning to possibly see some well-fucked girl slipping out. Or Niall and his blissed-out expressions that made Harry’s mind wander more often than not. So he bunked with Liam and Louis for the night; Louis, the saint that he was, offered to run out and get a tub of ice cream so that Harry would be a bit less miserable. 

 

It felt a lot like the first semester that he knew Niall was rushing back. He just hated that he was still so affected by it. He’d let Louis’ words get into his head, let himself believe that he might actually have a chance, and that was his own fault. He shouldn’t have been expecting anything more from Niall. In the end, he really needed to be happy with what he already had. 

 

What made it worse was the way that Niall looked at him when they all met up in the lobby of the hotel for breakfast. There was a really clear sense of something forlorn in his eyes. As if Harry was the one that brought someone back to their hotel room. As if Harry was the one who made Niall retreat to their friends room. He made a comment about how Harry was still in his clothes from the day before and left it at that. It sounded a lot like an accusation. Harry was about to make a comment about the love bites that were no doubt on Niall’s neck, but when he glanced down he didn’t see any. So, he kept his mouth shut. 

 

He had hoped that Liam and Louis would fill the silence with their usual stories. Yet, Louis didn’t seem to be in the mood for any talking. Every now and then Harry would see, through the limited view of the front mirror, Liam nudge Louis and point at something on the road. Sometimes Louis would laugh, but most of the time he’d just watch Liam’s profile and then look away when Liam turned back towards him. It was maddening. 

 

Just when he was starting to think that there would be no rescue at all, the car sputtered. “ _ Shit _ ,” Niall dragged out the word until the car eventually dragged to a stop and lurched onto the side of the road. Then, he smacked his palms against the steering wheel and let out a groan. “You’ve got to be shitting me.”

 

“What’s wrong?” Liam asked from the back. 

 

“Maybe we cursed it,” Louis suggested, suddenly much more alert, “Maybe every car I touch is doomed to break down.”

 

Niall dragged a hand down his face, and Harry watched as he let out a shaky sigh. When he dropped his hand, his normally pink tinted cheeks were red, and he wouldn’t look any of them in the eyes. “I forgot to fill up the tank before we left.”

 

There was a long pause before Liam nodded, “Well, that will do it.” 

 

“You never forget to fill up the tank,” Harry said as if that would somehow magically change the situation. It wasn’t like Niall to forget something so big. 

 

“I’ve had one hell of a night; I might’ve forgotten a thing or two,” Niall grumbled, and he hit the steering wheel one more time before he went to unbuckle his seatbelt. “I saw a gas station about a mile back; I should have a gas can in the trunk.” He shifted around in his seat until he looked at the two men in the back, “Would you guys be alright with staying here to watch the car while Harry and I walk back?” 

 

Liam answered before Louis could even open his mouth, “Yeah, of course.” 

 

Harry wasn’t intending to be stuck, alone, with Niall. It was really the last thing he wanted at that point, but when Niall looked at him expectantly and gave a curt jerk of his head, Harry couldn’t help but to follow him out of the car. He helped Niall to push the car further off the road while Liam directed it in neutral for that short distance. Once Niall grabbed the oil can and they headed down the road, they were utterly alone. 

 

“So,” Niall began, his tone falsely casual as he drummed his fingers against the side of the hollow oil can, “Who’s the bloke?”

 

The words stole the breath right out of Harry, and he tried his best to remain calm and collected as he almost choked on the lack of air. “What do you mean? What bloke?”

 

Niall shrugged, another attempt at nonchalance, “You didn’t come back to the hotel room the other night and you were pretty flustered this morning so I thought…”

 

“Niall, I—”

 

“I mean, obviously you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” Niall conceded, not looking up at the shell-shocked look on Harry’s face for a single second. If he had, perhaps he would have understood that what he thought happened the night before hadn’t happened at all. Harry was so taken aback that he almost didn’t put the pieces together about how coldly Niall treated him at breakfast and the comments about how dishevelled Harry looked. 

 

“I…” Harry trailed off as he searched for something to say. He really didn’t want to play games with Niall, but now that he looked back on the events of the day he swore that he recognized jealousy peeking through Niall’s words and actions. Perhaps it was Louis’ influence. Perhaps Harry was being too hopeful. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to torment Niall if that was the case. “I wasn’t with anyone last night,” he said, and he watched Niall’s gaze shoot up immediately, “Well, I  _ was _ with Liam and Louis.” 

 

“Oh,” Niall said, his tone shifting to something that Harry couldn’t quite place. There was the ghost of a smile on his lips as he looked away from the curly-headed lad. They fell into another silence, but this one was more comfortable than the last. The  _ whir _ of passing cars filled the air.

 

“What’s it like, Harry?” 

 

The question came with nothing at all, no explanation, and Harry was left to stare at him with a wrinkle between his brows. “What do you mean?”

 

“You know,” Niall shrugged, kicking at the ground. Harry definitely  _ didn’t _ know. He kept quiet until Niall looked at him again, sighed heavily, and then focused his eyes resolutely on the cluster of buildings in the distance, “Kissing another guy.” 

 

It was Harry’s turn to be surprised. He tripped over his own feet, stumbling towards the road. “Oh,” he said, “Well… well, it’s not any different from kissing a girl.”

 

“Really?”

 

Harry nodded. He was nowhere near brave enough to look Niall in the eye at that moment. The pavement beneath his feet would do instead. “I don’t have much to compare it to, mind you. I suppose stubble might be a bit different. I’ve never kissed with stubble, though. And a lot of it depends on the person you’re kissing.” 

 

From the corner of his eye, Harry caught Niall’s cheeks redden. Niall’s black-rimmed glasses slipped down the bridge of his nose, and Harry watched him push them up again before he cleared his throat. “And, uh… what about… you know, sex?”

 

If Harry was surprised before, he was absolutely gobsmacked by then. He tried very hard not to choke on his own spit, and he looked away as soon as Niall turned to face him. “I,” Harry swallowed thickly, trying not to sound too nervous when he forced out the rest of the words, “I wouldn’t know.” 

 

“You’ve never…?” 

 

Harry shook his head, tried not to blush too much at the way that Niall was looking at him. 

 

“Not even with a girl?” Niall pressed on. Harry shook his head again. “You’re a virgin, Harry?”

 

“Well, don’t say it like it’s a bad thing,” Harry grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest as the feeling of insecurity spread through the pit of his stomach and made his heartache. It wasn’t his fault that Niall made it so bloody hard to settle for anyone  _ but _ him. 

 

“It’s not—that’s not what I meant. It’s just surprising is all.” There was something in Niall’s eyes, something that Harry just barely caught when he looked up at him. It reminded Harry of the look in someone’s eyes when something particularly scandalous slipped through their mind. When paired with the way Niall’s eyes flicked over Harry’s body, it was almost too much. Harry coughed to ease the tension. 

 

“Surprising?” 

 

“Louis wasn’t lying the other day, Harry; you’re well fit.” Harry’s cheeks burned, and he tripped again which almost sent him into the street. Niall caught his arm and pulled him back as traffic passed. And, even after Harry was safe by Niall’s side, Niall’s hand stayed firmly on Harry’s arm. Then, almost slowly enough to be imperceivable, his hand dropped down to graze Harry’s. What started out as the faintest of touch shifted when Niall’s pinky hooked together with his own. 

 

Harry didn’t acknowledge the gesture. He was afraid that that might scare Niall off. They walked in silence the rest of the way. 

 

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

 

“You’ve been awfully quiet today.” 

 

Louis didn’t bother to pull his gaze away from the riveting tree just a few feet away from the car. The burning of Liam’s focus on his profile was enough pressure as it was. If he bothered to look Liam in those big brown eyes, he knew that he would be done for and he’d have to spill his guts about everything right then and there. It was best to play it safe. 

 

“Have I?”

 

From the way that Liam sighed, Louis knew that he wasn’t buying Louis’ aloof attitude for a single second. Louis should’ve known that Liam would catch his shift in attitude. It wasn’t fair, he decided; it wasn’t fair at all. “Drop the bullshit, Louis. Is this about Zayn’s call?”

 

For a minute, Louis considered not answering. It would be difficult to ignore Liam until he gave up, but he was almost sure that he could do it. In the end, he just huffed and said, “You never told me that he called you.”

 

“The last time I even mentioned his name you almost strangled me,” Liam chuckled, an obvious attempt to lighten the mood. It didn’t work. Louis’ eyes remained focused on the tree in the distance; he was tired of looking at the dull bark, but it was too late to give up now. 

 

“He said he sent you something—”

 

“You’re worried about the painting? About us holding hands in his painting?” Louis didn’t say anything, but that must’ve been answer enough. “Have you actually seen it? It’s quite good.”

 

Not bothering to hold back, Louis scoffed, “Of course it’s good. I never claimed that Zayn was talentless. A bloody idiot and backstabber, but not talentless.”

 

There were a few seconds where Liam didn’t say anything. All that could be heard was the whisper of tapping against a phone screen, and then Liam pushed his phone into Louis’ view. It was the first time that Louis looked away from the window, and the picture on the screen was much more captivating than the tree outside. Zayn really had managed to capture their likenesses perfectly. And Louis understood what Zayn meant about the critics seeing the chemistry; the way that they looked at each other… well, it was pretty damning. 

 

“When I first saw it I thought it looked quite familiar. Turns out he used a photo of us from that Christmas party during Sophomore year. We were both drunk off our arses,” Liam chuckled as he unbuckled his seatbelt and scooted closer to Louis. Even Louis couldn’t help but smile at the memory. 

 

“God, you were a mess.”

 

A beat of silence settled over them before Liam spoke again, “You kissed me that night.”

 

Louis blanched, suddenly remembering that part of the night and feeling the embarrassment creep up his neck and cheeks. “ _ I _ was a mess… and there was mistletoe everywhere.”

 

Gently, Liam pulled his phone back and Louis was almost sad to see it go. The conversation had taken a turn that he wasn’t expecting, and he no longer had the tree outside of the window to retreat to. He settled for picking at his jeans. 

 

“Louis, Sophia broke up with me because I couldn’t commit myself to the relationship and she knew that. She knew… she knew that I was in love with  _ you _ .”

 

Louis’ hands stilled. The rough yet reassuring feel of the fabric beneath his fingers grounded him to that moment. His shoulders were so drawn up with tension. His throat grew tight, his mouth dry.  Had the car always been so hot? 

 

When Liam spoke next the words were rushed and he slumped in his seat. “I felt so horrible for doing that to her: for dragging her along into a relationship and making her think that I might be able to give her the part of me that you already had. I  _ wanted _ to be able to forget how I felt about you so that I could be happy with her.  _ Shit _ , Lou, you don’t make it easy,” and despite everything, Liam let out a strangled chuckle or two. 

 

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” Louis didn’t like the way his voice sounded; it was too quiet, too soft and unsure and it didn’t sound like him at all. 

 

Liam sighed but answered him after several beats, “I thought about it. Back in Freshman year, Zayn told me that all of your teasing was just you pulling my pigtails. And once we were friends it was so easy to just… it was a slippery slope into wanting more. I was going to tell you when we got back for Junior year, but then Zayn left and you were so beat up about it. I didn’t want to make you feel like I was trying to put our friendship in jeopardy with  _ feelings _ . But I’m not scared anymore; that crazy tattoo artist was right about finding the right person to commit to, and you’re my right person, Louis.” 

 

Finally, Louis pulled together the courage to look up at Liam. Sure enough, his big brown eyes were focused on Louis with an intensity that not even the sun could rival. It made a part of Louis die in the best way possible. A smile as bright as a thousand stars lit up Louis’ face; he was sure that he’d never smiled so wide in his entire life. “You’re an absolute numpty, Liam Payne,” he said through laughter before he pulled Liam closer by the collar of his shirt and kissed him. 

 

Out of the thousands of different ways Louis imagined he might kiss Liam (fully sober this time around), the back of a car was not one that he considered. He always thought it would be more of a searing, soul-shattering kiss as well, but this… this was sweet and soft and everything that Louis could have ever wanted. There was no rush; that could wait. 

 

By the time that he pulled away, his smile was back with full force and Liam’s eyes were still closed as if under the dizzying spell of Louis’ lips. Though it would no doubt ruin the mood, Louis chuckled, “And to think: I didn’t make any serious moves because I thought that you were straight this entire time.”

 

That did manage to break the spell; Liam’s eyes opened to look into Louis’ before they crinkled around the edges with amusement and disbelief. “I said that I was bi a long time ago!” Liam protested, “Remember when I talked about my ex, Alex?”

 

Louis covered his blazing cheeks with his hands, peeking through the gaps in his fingers just to catch a glimpse of Liam’s dazzling smile. “I thought Alex was short for Alexandria or something.” 

 

Liam laughed incredulously, “Our dates consisted of playing FIFA, watching action movies, and drinking my dad’s beer.”

 

“All things that girls can enjoy.” 

 

For a few seconds, all Liam could seem to manage was breathless giggling. Then, he draped his arm over Louis’ shoulders, pulled him closer, and said, “Are you sure I’m the numpty here?” 

 

“Oh shut up.” The words were said without malice and sealed with a kiss. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I decided that I only hate myself a little bit and am currently taking two online classes. The good news is that they're not too hard. My bad news (or maybe good) is that there aren't too many chapters left in this story. They will hopefully be up shortly (it depends entirely on whether I spoke too soon about my classes or not).


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Louis pushes a little too much, and Niall does exactly what he has always wanted to do.

**NIALL**

 

Niall preferred not to be left alone with his thoughts. He was sure that that was one of the reasons that he became such good friends with Harry the second that the gangly guy stumbled into their shared room. Harry could talk for  _ hours _ about everything and nothing. When he did that, Niall didn’t have to think. He just had to listen. 

 

Ever since the beginning of Junior year that changed. If you asked Niall to put his finger on exactly what caused it, he wouldn’t be able to tell you. All he knew for sure was that now when Harry went on his tangents, all that Niall could focus on were his lips. Sometimes it made him want to scream. Other times, when he was alone in their room with his hand down his pants, it  _ did _ make him scream. 

 

The summer trip was supposed to be Niall’s path towards getting closer to Harry and reminding himself that they were  _ friends _ . And friends don’t think about each other like… well, like  _ that _ . Especially not friends who were guys. Niall had a long list of people who had practically beaten that point into him. 

 

With the places that his mind tended to wander nowadays, it was no wonder that he didn’t like to be left alone. Yet, that was where the day found him; he sat at the edge of the hotel’s bar and stared at his empty glass. Only one drink in. He couldn’t go any further; the drinks pushed away the inhibitions caused by years and years of Catholic batterings of morality, and that was dangerous when he was sharing a bed with the person who filled his dreams more often than not. 

 

They were lucky tonight, though. After filling the gas tank of the car and driving the rest of the way to the next city, they got to the fancy hotel only to find out that their room had been double booked. The management of the hotel was so apologetic about the mistake that they upgraded the four of them to a premium suite. Two rooms, joined by a common area with a kitchen, and (Niall said a silent thanks for this) two large beds in each room. 

 

As soon as they lugged all of their baggage up to the suite, Louis and Liam disappeared into their adjoining room. It wasn’t much of a surprise considering Harry and Niall found them snogging in the back seat of the car when they were back with gas. Niall didn’t ask any questions about it; he thought it best not to pry. 

 

Harry had mentioned something about actually cooking for once, and he left to go to the nearby grocer’s market. Even though Harry invited him along, Niall didn’t think that it was a good idea. The hotel bar sounded like a much more enticing option. That was until he remembered exactly why he hadn’t been drinking. 

 

The shallow glass mocked him. He wanted another drink. He wanted to block out the moans from the explicit videos he watched the night before. He wanted to forget how hard he came just by thinking about Harry doing all of the things that the women did. He wanted to forget about how it felt  _ right _ just for a moment. Because everything that he knew screamed at him that it was wrong. Everything that he’d been taught told him that he was  _ sick _ . That there was something wrong about the way that he fancied his best mate. 

 

Someone slipped into the seat next to him. He didn’t bother to look up at first, knew that it could be absolutely anyone, but then the person cleared their throat. He craned his neck to see Louis beaming down at him. There was a clearly blissed-out look in his eyes. Parts of his hair stuck up almost comically, and his shirt was almost definitely on backwards. “Drowning your sorrows?” he joked, a Cheshire cat smile stretching his lips. 

 

“Something like that,” Niall shrugged, turning back to stare down at the empty glass. 

 

There was a short pause, and something odd filled the air. Niall could almost feel the cogs working in Louis’ head, knew immediately that Louis was planning something. After hearing countless stories from Liam about all of Louis’ plans gone wrong, Niall was almost afraid to hear what Louis would say next. “You know, you’d make your life a lot easier if you just told Harry about how you feel.”

 

Niall’s heart hammered wildly in his chest for a few moments. His grip on his empty glass tightened.  “ What? What are you talking about?” 

 

He saw Louis shrug out of the corner of his eye, saw him wave over the bartender as he spoke, “You're in love with Harry, and—”

 

_ Love _ ? No, that couldn’t be what it was. That wasn’t… Harry was a friend.  _ A friend _ . Even if the lines between friendship and something more had been blurred recently, that didn’t mean… And so what if all of Niall’s plans for the future had Harry in them? It didn’t mean that he was in love with Harry. Did it? The whirlwind of his thoughts almost made his head hurt. When he spoke, the words were both for his own mind and for Louis, “Wait, hold the fuck up. What the hell are you getting at?”

 

Louis scoffed, leaned back in his chair, and took a swig of the beer that was slid over to him before he elaborated, “Oh come on! It's so obvious, blondie! You've got feelings for the goof but you're too afraid to admit it so you drown yourself in girls. I get it, I do; it's not that easy when you first realize that you're a bit gay—”

 

The word snapped something in Niall. His shoulders drew up and his bit out his reply, “I am  _ not _ gay.”

 

That earned a laugh from Louis. The older man spoke around the lip of his bottle, “Oh come off it—”

 

"There's nothing to come off of; you have no idea what you're talking about.” Niall made sure to enunciate every single word so that Louis would know just how wrong he was. It didn’t seem to work. 

 

The smile slipped from Louis’ thin lips and his brows furrowed, but he pushed further (albeit more hesitantly than before), “I've seen the way that you two look at each other, Niall. You can't honestly tell me that you haven't thought about shagging him.”

 

He’d definitely thought about it. Once, twice, maybe a hundred times. But there was no way in hell that he was going to say that to Louis. “I look at him like everyone looks at their  _ friend _ , because that's what he is, a  _ friend _ .” Just saying the words brought more anger coursing through him. Not only did they now feel wrong, but it sounded as though he was trying to convince himself that they were true when they weren’t. What right did Louis have to waltz in and make Niall question everything that he had already been so confused about? 

 

“Niall—”

 

The anger swelled into something deadly. All traces of laughter or teasing was wiped from Louis’ face as Niall slid off of his chair and rifled through his wallet angrily. “What makes you think that you're qualified to tell me that I'm in love with someone? What the fuck gave you the impression that I wanted you to come over here and psychoanalyze my feelings?” He didn’t need Louis for that; he’d done enough psychoanalyzing himself. 

 

Louis looked positively taken aback. “I didn't mean to—”

 

As his hand closed around the notes in his wallet, he stared Louis down with a glare. He wondered if it looked as scathing as he hoped it did. “You're just a boy that was standing on the side of the road that we felt bad for. You're not my fucking friend; you don't have the right to stick your nose in shit that doesn't concern you.”

 

“I was just—”

 

Niall interrupted the words as he practically smacked the notes down onto the bar’s sticky counter, “Keep your opinions to yourself from now on, poof.” And that actually managed to earn an offended gasp from Louis. Though Niall thought that he should feel satisfied with the sound and the inevitable damage he’d done to his fledgeling friendship with Louis (and possibly Liam if Louis told him about the ordeal), he only felt emptier than before. He was more  _ confused  _ than before. 

 

He stalked away from the bar. Though he didn’t know quite where he needed to go next, his feet made the decision for him and carried him all of the way to the elevators in the building. Louis’ words stuck in the back of his mind, taunting him just like the boys at St. Nicholas’. He smashed the buttons of the elevator and fished out his wallet yet again as the doors of the elevator slid shut. The day was officially ruined, and all he wanted to do was slip into bed and brood a bit. He knew that he’d have to face the consequences of what he said to Louis in the morning, but it could wait until then. 

 

Then, as he was searching his wallet for his key card, his phone buzzed in his back pocket. He slipped it out to see what the notification was from and immediately swiped to open the message that Harry sent him. It was a picture of a pan of food. The broccoli and mushrooms looked a tad raw, but it wasn’t the worst dish Niall had seen. 

 

**Harry:** Attempted to make some chicken stir fry. What would you rate it, chef nailler? :)

 

And just like that, all of the frustration pent up in his body slipped away. His shoulders slumped, and he even felt the start of a smile tugging at his lips. Like he so often did these days, he tapped on the picture he had saved for Harry’s contact. A candid picture he took way back in Freshman year when they went to their first house party of the semester; Harry had a ridiculous nest of curls back then, and his dimples were on full display as he laughed right at Niall. Niall couldn’t remember the joke that he’d said that made Harry laugh  _ that _ hard, but he was sure that it wasn’t actually funny. Harry hated it. He always told Niall to change it. Even with all of the protests, Niall never did. He couldn’t. After all, it reminded him of all of the reasons he loved Harry. 

 

_ Love.  _ The elevator dinged and the doors to the suite’s floor slid open just as Niall realized what he’d thought. It rang through his head, made his knees feel weak enough that he didn’t trust that he’d make it to the suite’s door. Somehow, he pushed through the white noise that followed the word and the revelation that came with it. Perhaps Louis had gotten into his head, but he didn’t bother to try to explain away the slip of his thoughts that time. He didn’t feel like he had to. 

 

He walked towards the suite numbly, slipped his card into the slot, and pushed the door open when the green light flashed. Somewhere further in the suite, Niall could just barely make out the soft horns and beats of Harry’s music. The pop of the base matched the beating of Niall’s heart. It reminded him of that night in the club, of Harry’s body pressed against his and the music and blood that pulsed through his body. 

 

He stopped in his place when he spotted Harry sprawled out on one of the beds. A pillow was propped beneath his chin as he scrolled through his phone while laying on his stomach. His shirt was in a pile on the floor. When he heard Niall’s shuffling, he shifted his gaze and smile brightly at him. That smile was enough to break what was left of Niall’s control. 

 

“If you don’t want to get food poisoning I would stay away from the chicken stir fry; I don’t think I cooked the chicken enough,” Harry looked back to his phone with a chuckle as Niall drew closer, “Probably safer to order something from room service.” The words fell on deaf ears, though. 

 

Harry's blemish-free back mocked him in the worst way. Every breath drew Niall's eyes back to the bare skin. What it told him was that Louis was right. He'd thought of shagging Harry before. He thought about it too much. He thought about it right then.

 

“Harry.”

 

It didn't quite get Harry's attention like he hoped, but Harry did give an inquisitive hum. He also tortured Niall even more by tugging on his bottom lip. By the time he actually looked at Niall, his bottom lip was ruby red. Niall didn't think.

 

A startled little noise left Harry, but he didn't push Niall away when their lips slotted together. No, he kissed Niall back as if the world was ending. All of the breath was knocked out of Niall by the sheer intensity and he could no longer remember Louis' words. He didn't even  _ think  _ about the hurtful words of the boys back in boarding school. What ran through his head then was just Harry. He wanted  _ Harry _ .

 

Just as he eased Harry back onto the bed and shifted so that he was between Harry's long legs, he tore away from the kiss. His lips burned a path down Harry's bared neck. “Are you drunk?” Harry gasped out the words, “We can't do this if you're drunk, Niall. I can't—”

 

Niall shut him up with another kiss, only to draw away again. His thumb dragged across Harry's kiss bitten bottom lip. God, his mind was muddled. “Not drunk,” he said, wishing that he could just be done with words so that they could get back to what was at hand, “Just want you, Harry.” And with that, he rocked his hips into Harry. It was almost embarrassing to know how hard he was, and even more so when his dick twitched at Harry's whimper. 

 

The quiet  _ thunk _ of Harry’s phone falling to the floor was quickly ignored as Niall slipped one of his hands into Harry’s curls. The hair was soft to the touch thanks to Harry’s damn frilly shampoo, and Niall relished the feel of it as he tugged. Harry’s sharp gasp mingled with the sultry lyrics drifting from Harry’s forgotten phone. 

 

The buttons on his jeans were fastened too well, and he pulled away from Harry with a grumble as he tried to undo them. Harry lay beneath him, simply watching as he worried his bottom lip between his teeth. Niall’s hands paused momentarily, “What’s wrong?”

 

For a moment he thought that he might’ve messed everything up. Perhaps Harry didn’t feel the same way. He should have been more careful. But then a blush spread over Harry’s cheeks, and he averted his gaze, “Are you sure you want to…? With me?”

 

Niall couldn’t think for a second, but as soon as Harry looked up at him through his dark lashes he was back to frantically undoing the buttons of his jeans. “‘Course, Harry,” he said the second that he managed to strip the fabric away. His fingers hooked in the hem of Harry’s trousers drew out another gasp from the younger man when his nails scraped against the skin just beneath his pants. “Just you.” Whatever reservations Harry had before, they appeared to slip away at that. He flung his arm around Niall’s shoulders and pulled him in for another searing kiss. 

 

By some miracle, Niall managed to pull down Harry’s skin-tight trousers. It left them both in nothing but their pants after he threw his shirt in a random direction. And that was what Niall needed. The feeling of Harry’s skin flush against his brought a rush of blood and need and  _ want _ and all Niall could think about was  _ Harry _ . 

 

“Do—Do you have anything?” Harry stuttered out as Niall swiped his thumb over one of Harry’s pebbled nipple. The words didn’t register at first, but when they did Niall almost cursed. It took every ounce of restraint in his body to pull himself away so that he could hastily search his luggage for the lube and condoms he had stashed away. When he finally found it, it still took too long to join Harry on the bed again. 

 

It was all too easy to strip away what little clothing they had left. Niall always thought that that would be when he snapped out of his haze. He always thought the feeling of another person’s cock would be too much, too foreign and too wrong of a sensation. But that couldn’t have been further from the truth because this wasn’t just anyone’s cock. This was Harry.  _ His _ Harry. 

 

If Harry hadn’t told him that he was a virgin, Niall would’ve been fooled. Though there were a few seconds of discomfort written across Harry’s face when Niall pressed one finger past Harry’s entrance, it soon faded. Before long Harry was nothing but a writhing mess of breathless panting, and Niall watched him in complete rapture. When Harry begged, pleaded, for more, Niall didn’t wait. 

 

He slid on the condom effortlessly, applied a generous amount of lube, and eased his way into Harry. The pleasure was insurmountable and overwhelming. For a few indescribable moments, Niall could hardly breathe. And then Harry whined out his name. Niall tried. He really tried to be gentle and slow. He wasn’t sure if he would last very long if he let himself get carried away. But the  _ noises _ that Harry made were so smutty that Niall felt like his heart might burst. 

 

As he drew closer and closer to the edge of release, Niall stooped over Harry. His lips trailed the expanse of Harry’s heaving neck, and his hand found its way to Harry’s shaft. “Oh—oh  _ fuck _ ,” Harry whimpered, his eyebrows drawn together and his mouth hanging open, “God, Niall, I can’t—”

 

Niall was right there with him, though; he gave a few more rushed and reckless thrusts, made sure to stroke Harry through each one, and then gasped out Harry name as he came. It rolled through his entire body like nothing he’d ever felt before. He swore that his soul even shook with it. Harry’s cum painted the back of his hand and Harry’s stomach alike, and as every ounce of Niall left him, he couldn’t help but feel completely spent. 

 

After pulling out as slowly as possible, Niall fell back against the bed with a heavily panting Harry. Their breaths mixed together in the spacious room. And, as Niall drifted off into one of the most peaceful sleep that he’d ever had, he couldn’t help but think that he was ruined forever. There was no way that anyone could ever beat  _ that _ . 

 

For the first time in years, his tired mind was almost completely blank, and all that mattered that night was that Harry was drifting off right beside him.  


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chapter in which some people could benefit from shutting their damn mouths.

**LILO & HARRY & NIALL**

 

Louis expected several things to happen in the dawn of the following day. He expected some sort of an apology from Niall for the harsh words exchanged the night before (and was actually prepared to offer an apology of his own for prying). He expected to have a few awkward looks and attempts at conversation for the first hour or so. He expected everything to go back to normal eventually. What he didn’t expect was to see Harry languidly moving about the room with a grin so bright it could put the stars to shame. 

 

Somehow, Louis didn’t even need to ask Harry about what caused the happy mood. He simply put the pieces together from the glow of Harry’s face, the odd way that he walked every now and then, and the happy little hum that he did as he tidying things up. When he cheerily said, “I’m going to get some breakfast for all of us”, it only sealed the deal. Louis had seen Harry in the morning before on their trip, and he’d never acted like  _ that _ . In his mind, it only meant one thing. 

 

All of Louis’ suspicions were confirmed when Niall emerged from the room that he shared with Harry. The sweatpants on his hips were held up by a prayer, and he scratched at his stomach and yawned like a content cat. “Where’s Harry?” he wondered, sounding as if he had entirely forgotten how harsh he’d been to Louis the night before. Unfortunately for him, Louis hadn’t.

 

So, as Liam answered Niall with a short mumble of “breakfast” while staring at his phone, Louis snapped out, “So, you’re so  _ not _ gay that you decided to nail a bloke in the ass? Seems pretty fucking gay to me.” 

 

Very slowly, Liam looked up from his phone to look at Louis and then at Niall. The air shifted within second as Niall seemed to be yanked away from what was left of his sleepiness. Louis just barely caught the second that his eyes went wide as if he was a cat trapped in a corner as the dogs closed in. “Did Harry say—”

 

“He didn’t have to,” Louis practically snarled, “You’re both being pretty obvious. Congrats on finally deciding that you like cock, Neil.”

 

Liam’s warning from beside him was barely a whisper, “Louis,  _ stop _ .” 

 

“No, no,” Louis shook his head as he kept his gaze firmly planted on Niall, “I think that I should get to enjoy this.” Even though he knew that he might be going too far, he couldn’t seem to stop himself. That was the danger of anger, after all. “I may be a poof, Niall, but at least I’ve actually got the balls to accept that.”

 

The fear in Niall’s eyes turned to something dangerous within seconds. It crept up his neck until his whole face was almost bathed in an angry bright red. It tinged the tips of his ears, threatened to make them steam. Just as all of the emotion must’ve bubbled over, Harry came back into the suite with a food-laden tray balanced in his hands. He paused his giddy whistling when he must’ve felt the thick tension that settled over the room. "You know what? You know what? Fuck  _ all _ of you," Niall spat out, eyes blazing as they settled on Harry in particular.    
  


Though Louis could see just how volatile the situation had become, he couldn’t help but grind out another seething remark, "Well you've already fucked one of us."   
  


From his spot by the door, Harry sounded genuinely hurt, "What did I do?"    
  


The glare that Niall levelled him with was downright terrifying, even by Louis’ standards. That was the moment when Louis realized, far too late, that he’d gone too far. He’d pushed Niall too far and the only one that was going to get hurt was the one person who Louis hadn’t intended to harm. Niall’s cold and bitter words were only a confirmation of his fears, "You fucking let me jump into bed with you!"

 

There was a short, heartbreaking pause before Harry spoke again. His voice shook, "You said you wanted to—"   
  


"Well, I lied, Harry. I said all that because I was horny and you were the closest thing I could fuck, how's that?"   
  


When Louis looked back to see Harry’s face he strongly regretted it. The poor boy’s hands clutched the tray of food as if it was a lifeline, and his bottom like wavered dangerously. The words that left his mouth sounded broken and hopeless, "I'm sorry."    
  


Niall snapped at him again, "And you damn well should be—"   
  


Ever the voice of reason, Liam spoke up from his spot beside Louis, sounding all the part of a nervous mediator watching a firefight break out before his eyes, "Maybe we should all just calm down—"    
  


"I'm not going to calm down! I don’t need all of you judging me and I certainly don't need to think about last night. It's disgusting,  _ he's _  disgusting, absolutely repulsive and—"   
  


That was the final straw. A loud crash came from behind Louis, and he looked back just in time to watch the glasses of orange juice and grape juice splash against the suite’s floor. The look on Harry’s face had edged past broken and journeyed on into devastation. Louis cursed just as a sob slipped past Harry’s lips. When the boy realized that everyone was staring at him, he backed up towards the door, dashed away the tears that raced down his cheeks, and basically bolted out of the door. 

  
Though he knew that he was the worst person to comfort Harry, after perhaps being the entire reason that everything went so spectacularly wrong, he couldn’t stop himself when he went to chase after him. "Harry, wait!" Whatever comfort he could give, it wouldn’t be nearly enough. The least he could do is try. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this incredibly short and terrible and sad chapter is in no way a proper apology for not updating, but I finally finished my summer classes so at least no one should feel the need to hang me for waiting weeks to upload again; the next update should be fairly soon (hopefully tomorrow or the next day).


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was at this moment that Niall realized that he fucked up.

**NIALL**

 

The hotel room was too quiet. Just across the room, Harry’s suitcase laid gaping and untouched. A few of his things were scattered around: a couple rings here, a shirt there, his phone charger dangling from the side table. It was silly to think that he might come back for them, but Niall still found himself staring at the blaring numbers on the bedside clock as minutes slipped into hours. Each new minute brought another unpleasant thought. Each new minute was a minute where Harry wasn’t there to quell his anxiety.

 

He’d regretted the words as soon as the door closed behind Harry. Then Louis ran ou, and Niall knew that that should have been him. He  _ wanted  _ to run after Harry. He wanted to say that he didn’t mean any of it, that he was just angry and panicked and afraid and he took that out on the person who least deserved it. Instead, he just stared, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, at the place where Harry had stood.

 

Liam had sat there in silence for a few minutes until everything seemed to sink in, and he looked at Niall in disbelief. “Disgusting?” he had echoed, the word ricocheting off of Niall and making him flinch. And then Liam had left as well. He came back later, grabbed his and Louis’ suitcases before he left again. Nothing else was said between them. Niall hadn’t even moved from where he was standing when Liam left the second time. He simply stood and stared, stood and stared… until the door seemed to mock him with the knowledge that Harry wasn’t coming back. Why should he?

 

It was easy to blame Louis at first. He cursed Louis’ name when he finally broke the trance that left him in his spot. By the time that he flopped onto his bed, stared at the clock, and let out a sigh, he found that he couldn’t curse Louis any longer. Louis didn’t call Harry disgusting. Niall did. Louis didn’t stare into his best friend’s eyes and spit out insult after insult. Niall did. Perhaps he wouldn’t have done any of it if Louis had kept his mouth shut, but Niall knew that he would’ve fucked it up in some other way. He had a penchant for that, didn’t he?

 

He would call Harry in the morning. He would explain everything or at least try to explain everything and salvage what was left between them. He  _ had  _ to; the thought of losing Harry wasn’t something that he could consider for too long without feeling sick. It was worse when he let memories of the night before seep in. If the thought of losing Harry was sickening, then the thought of losing him after only just finding out how much he truly meant to Niall was downright maddening. 

 

The silence crept in through the night, and Niall was left with nothing to do but think as he stared at the empty bed across the room. Whenever he thought about the things Louis said, the things that  _ he  _ said, a thick coil of panic wound itself tightly in his stomach. 

 

Niall had grown too used to hearing Harry’s snores right beside him while he slept. It was almost impossible to relax without the ebb and flow of Harry’s breathing, and Niall stared at the pillow next to his head. The memory of his face, desperately pressed against Harry’s the night before, filled his head. When he fell asleep that night, the taunts of his old classmates filled his head and he wished that Harry was there to push them all away. He tossed and turned until morning.    
  


 

 

 

The phone only rang once before the call bled into Harry’s voicemail. The familiar drawl of Harry’s voice settled into the pit of Niall’s stomach as he sat at the edge of the hotel room bed. Both his and Harry’s suitcases were by the door of the room, all packed up and ready to go. Niall kept his gaze on them as he tried not to let his breathing pick up, and he pressed the redial button without even looking down at his phone. One ring. Then the voicemail. 

 

It didn’t take long for Niall to figure out that Harry must’ve blocked his number. He wasn’t a complete idiot. That didn’t stop him from hovering over the redial one more time, though. As if this time might be different. As if Harry might just be waiting on the other line. Eventually, when he actually did press down on the button the single ring came and the voicemail followed. His feet carried him to the nearby bathroom. He emptied what little was left in his stomach into the toilet. 

 

All of the dread that crept away during the night hit him in full force. It was enough to leave him curled up against the door of the bathroom. He pulled his knees up to his chin and tried not to listen to the nagging voices in his head. The memories of one of the sisters at St Nicholas’ invaded his mind. He could almost feel the spit that flew from her mouth as he recalled her words of condemnation and shame. He could almost feel the sting against his wrists that came after he was caught holding hands with another student at the all-boys boarding school. He wanted it all to be gone. He wanted  _ Harry _ . 

 

When the alarm on his phone went off to remind him that it was almost time to check out of the hotel, Niall startled. He wiped away the tears that marred his cheeks, only just noticing them. The man that stared back at him when he pulled himself up to look in the mirror was hardly recognizable. Though the dark frames of his wide glasses did a lot to cover up the tired bags under his eyes, they did little to mask the now rims. His mouth tasted heavily of sick. 

 

The receptionist was a sweet girl who grinned the entire time Niall told her that someone spilled juice on their carpet and that it might’ve left a stain. She smiled as she billed Niall a little extra for how much it was going to cost to clean it up. She smiled even as he did nothing but stare off into the space behind her when she passed him back his card. Even though he appreciated her chipper attitude, he couldn’t manage anything more than a tired and sad little quirk of his lips before he left. He was glad to leave the hotel behind. 

 

 

 

 

The car bumbled along the road dutifully. Niall didn’t forget the gas this time around, and he even topped it off just to make sure that he had enough for the entire day. When he got onto the route, he didn’t bother to listen to where the GPS shouted at him to go. Instead, he followed the windy roads wherever they wished to take him. Eventually, he would make it to the next hotel. It was somewhere near Holmes Chapel. He wasn’t in any hurry to get there just yet. Well, he wasn’t until his phone rang. 

 

An unknown number filled his screen, and his heartbeat picked up as he pulled off to the side of the road and fumbled to answer the call. Thankfully there were no cars behind him; there was no one to honk angrily at him as he swerved quickly and put the car in park. “Hello?” he immediately answered, hopeful to hear a familiar voice. 

 

“Hello! Is this Niall Horan?” Though the caller couldn’t see him, he visibly deflated as he answered in the affirmative. The over-enthusiastic voice of the man on the other line droned on, “My name is Thomas and I’m calling on behalf of the University of Surrey’s Accommodations Office. We wanted to let you know about a change in your housing for the upcoming fall semester.” As patiently as he could, Niall waited for the man to continue as he drummed his fingers against the steering wheel. “Your request to room with Harry Styles next year was denied. If you'd like to request someone else as a roommate or apply for a single room you can—”

 

The words went fuzzy, in one ear and out the other, and Niall’s fingers paused their tapping. He stared out at the empty road ahead of him and fought back the familiar panic that rose in his chest. “It was denied?” he squeaked out, cutting off the man. 

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

“By who? Someone in charge of room assignments?” He already knew the answer, but part of him wanted to believe that he was wrong. He wanted to believe that it was all just some administrative error. He held his breath as he waited for the answer, felt his lungs strain against his rib cage painfully. 

 

“No, it was denied by Harry.” The breath left him as if he’d been punched. He tried not to suck in a ragged gasp while the man was still on the line, and he practically scrambled for some way to end the conversation as quickly as possible. “There's still time for him to rescind the decision, but you'll both have to work it out amongst yourselves. Are there any more questions, sir?”  

 

“No, thank you for letting me know,” he rushed over the words before he hung up, and his phone fell uselessly into his lap. One quick gasp forced its way out. Then another came, and then another. Before a minute passed, Niall clutched the steering wheel of the car like a bobbing life preserver in an endless expanse of ocean. The sea closed in around him as he struggled to breathe. Oh god, what had he done?

 

 

 

 

Not even an hour later, Niall found himself outside of Harry’s mum’s house. Her car wasn’t in the driveway, but Niall knew that Harry was somewhere inside. He could almost  _ feel _ it. His bones buzzed with a tinge of anxiety that had stuck to him like glue since the panic attack overtook him in his car. When he knocked, that anxiety reverberated against his knuckles and filled his chest to the brim. 

 

There was shouting on the other side of the door, a playful voice that Niall knew well enough to recognize. So, when Harry’s sister, Gemma, pulled open the door with a dazzling smile (that looked so much like Harry’s) lining her lips Niall wasn’t surprised. What surprised him was the speed with which that smile disappeared when she saw that it was him standing on the little home’s porch. 

 

"What are you doing here?" She shut the door behind her as she stepped out to join him on the porch, but she kept her tone deathly quiet even after it was closed. There was a rage in her eyes that made her next words more than slightly believable, "I have half a mind to strangle you right now."   
  


Niall was almost afraid to answer her, but he managed to force out his words after he swallowed the lump in his throat, "I just want to talk to Harry.” For a moment, he wondered how much Harry had told her about what happened. Harry always told Niall that he and Gemma were close, and Niall had seen them around each other enough to know that was an understatement. Still, he doubted that she would be holding back as much if she knew everything.    
  


"Yeah, well he's not exactly very keen on that idea,” she crossed her arms over her chest as she spoke. The glare that she fixed on him didn’t match the cute aesthetic of the kitten on her t-shirt, but that made it even more frightening. Niall found himself staring at the kitten instead of looking her in the eyes; he couldn’t say everything that he knew that he needed to. That was alright for her, though. She had plenty of words to fill the void that he left. "You called him disgusting."    
  


He paled, still not looking at her. "Gemma, I—"   
  


"You were supposed to be his friend, and then you say something like that?” The venom in her words was worse than that of the worst cobra’s bite. Once she saw that she struck him, she went in for the kill. “Do you even know what it was like when he came back home from your little trip? He left looking like you'd pulled the moon down for him and then he came back barely saying a word. It was like he was in high school all over again."    
  


Even her shirt was too much to look at then. He dropped his gaze to the cement beneath his feet. An excuse rested at the tip of his tongue, and he almost told her that he too was bullied when he was younger. He almost blamed all of the fucked up things that he said and did on that. It would have been easy, but he knew that that was what made it wrong. He stayed quiet instead.    
  


"Kids used to call him all sorts of things back then. The difference was that they were never his fucking friends." And that was perhaps the most devastating blow. 

 

Harry rarely opened up to Niall about what High School had been like. There were several times where he’d say something absolutely devastating about his experiences, but he’d always ended it with a dismissive statement of, “but it’s alright now because things are different. I’ve got friends like you.” Niall never really considered the weight of those words until right then, though. It was worse because Niall knew exactly how Harry felt.    
  


The silence dragged on until Niall found his shattered and shaking voice, "I'm sorry."   
  


Gemma only laughed bitterly before she said, "Eat shit, Horan." Then, with a disgusted scoff, she turned on her heel and slammed the door of the house in his sniffling face. He stayed as if cemented in the spot, for what felt like hours. When he finally did move, walked to his waiting car and shut the door behind him, he allowed himself to fall back into his seat as a sob wracked through his entire body. 

 

He could remember the shame and betrayal that came back when some of his closest friends abandoned him in boarding school. He could still hear the taunts and insults that his classmates whispered to him as he walked by. The isolation and loneliness that bombarded him then were exactly what he imagined Harry was feeling now. Niall hated that he’d passed on that pain. It was a terrible thing for anyone to feel.    
  


When he pulled out of the driveway, he chanced a glance up at where Harry’s room was. Perhaps it was a trick of his eyes, but he swore that he saw the curtains of the windows shift as someone moved out of view. He tried not to think about it as he drove away. 

 

 

 

 

It was two weeks later when Niall got the call about his internship. Those weeks had been filled with going to each hotel that he originally booked for Harry and himself. He’d even visit the nearby art exhibit if he felt up to it. Most days he found himself nestled into the corner of a sleepy pub instead. He was lucky if he made it back to the hotel room at a decent hour, let alone sober enough to plug in his phone before it died. None of the behavior was healthy. He knew that, but he just couldn’t bring himself to care. 

 

When the phone rang he was in the middle of his second beer of the night. This time he was holed up in the hotel room, wrapped up in the blankets of the bed with a six-pack of Guinness on the nightstand. He fumbled with the phone for only a second, not quite past the point of buzzed when the feelings at the tips of his fingers failed to register. 

 

An excited voice cheerily told him that he’d gotten the internship. Though it took him a moment to process the information through the haze in his mind, he was all smiles as soon as it pushed its way through. He jumped up from the hotel bed, almost spilling the bottle of beer in the process, and he practically waltzed around the room as he thanked and thanked the person on the phone. As soon as he hung up he dialed Harry’s number. 

 

He only realized his mistake when the familiar voicemail came. And, though he’d left countless drunk voicemails before, he only had the strength to gasp out a short “I got the internship” before he hung up. The elation slipped out of him from the tips of his fingers. He stumbled back onto the bed, searched blindly for the TV remote so that he could turn off whatever was playing. 

 

There wasn’t much else to do. He’d never thought about just how much of his life depended on Harry until he was cut off from his best friend. To be completely honest, there was no one else to phone. All of the other contacts from Uni were one night stands or acquaintances who really only checked in on Niall when they wanted to copy notes from a class that they missed. He thought about calling his brother for a second but eventually decided that he didn’t want to listen to Greg drone on and on about how his recent marriage was going. 

 

When he eventually settled over a contact, he let his thumb weigh heavy on the screen and he breathed out a sigh of relief when the phone was picked up on the first ring. “Da?” he spoke in a voice that was barely there as if he was a child again and asking for his father to check for monsters. The monsters weren’t under the bed anymore, though; they were in his head. 

 

“Well there’s my good lad,” his father’s thick Irish accent slipped through the phone like a calming lullaby, but it didn’t rush over Niall in quite the way that he hoped. Though the tone of the words was upbeat, Niall didn’t find himself smiling. “What’s the craic where you’re at?” 

 

The news of the internship was what he originally called about, but it didn’t make its way up. Instead, something else fought its way to the surface and Niall practically gasped out his words. “Da, I fancy boys.” 

 

A long silence passed on the other side of the phone. For a second, Niall wasn’t sure if he actually said anything at all. Perhaps he accidentally hit the mute button and his dad was still waiting for his reply. Then, after the few excruciating moments of waiting passed, Bobby Horan chuckled, “Well, alright then.” 

 

Something akin to nausea pulled at Niall’s stomach, but it was the kind that came with queasy relief rather than the sinking of one’s stomach. He felt as if he could finally breathe again, and he let out his own disbelieving laugh at his father’s calm answer. “You’re not upset?”

 

“Of course not,” the answer was almost a scoff of insult, “Why on earth would I be upset? You’re my son whether you fancy birds or blokes.” The cheerful tone dropped after that, though, and when his father spoke again he almost sounded… sorrowful. “Were you afraid to tell me?” 

 

Niall didn’t want to admit to it, but he mumbled out a timid affirmation. 

 

His father sighed, “Is this because of St. Nicholas’? You were never the same after you came back from that school. You hardly looked at any of the boys in the neighborhood for years. Your oul dear told me that one of the sisters caught you holding hands with a bloke but I didn’t think… I should have transferred you to a different school the second I noticed something was off.” 

 

Part of Niall was glad to hear that he wasn’t the only one that noticed the impact of his school days. The other part of him was ashamed that he had ever let it affect him with so great a force. He didn’t say any of that, though. He simply rubbed at his quickly reddening eyes and said, “It’s alright; it’s in the past now.” 

 

After a small sigh of resignation, his father spoke again, “Is this your way of asking me if you can bring someone home for the summer? Am I finally going to meet Harry?” 

 

What was left of Niall’s small smile slipped away. Before he could even control himself, a small sob escaped and he shoved his face into the crook of his elbow to try and stop the onslaught of cries. It didn’t stop his father from hearing them, though. 

 

“Are you alright?”

 

“I’ve been such a feckin’ Eejit, da,” Niall gasped out the words, “and now I think I’ve made a right bags of everything. I can’t seem to get any of it right.” 

 

“Oh Niall,” his dad sighed, all soft words and gentle coaxing as Niall continued to sob. Even though he desperately tried to control his cries, the dam had broken and he wasn’t sure if he had any power to fix it. It wasn’t the first time that he’d cried in front of his dad, and he knew that it probably wasn’t going to be the last. When he did manage to calm down, his father spoke in hushed tones, “Now, now, why don’t you come on back to Ireland? You sound like you’re missing home.” 

 

It was pointless to argue when he knew that his dad was right. Instead, he just wiped at his eyes and hiccuped out an ‘okay’ that neared the territory of being pathetic. He could only hope that everything would be better after a few weeks at home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo yo yo another kind reminder that I am trash and cannot be trusted to update when I say I'm going to update. So, when I say that I'll update again in the next few days don't listen to me. Also, there are about 2-3 chapters left in this story and the last one will hopefully be the longest. Yike


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where some bets are won.

**LOUIS & LIAM**

 

The thought of returning home was normally reassuring. Sure, Louis was excited to see his sisters and his mum again, and the idea of telling them about Liam and his relationship was enough to make him laugh at his mother’s possible reaction. What kept it from being an altogether happy occasion was the thought of Harry suffering quietly all of the way in Holmes Chapel. Louis checked his phone every other second just to make sure a new text hadn’t arrived. It’d been too quiet in the passing days. 

 

He tried to take his mind off of the whole situation by enjoying his time with his family. As soon as his sisters were out of school he made sure to take them to the park or to the movies. Some nights were spent calling Liam and talking until they both fell asleep with the phone still going. He even tried to pick up some cooking skills from his mum. It didn’t work, but the trying is what counted. 

 

Planning for the joint dinner with his parents and Liam’s distracted him. He spent most of the day making sure that everything was perfect. He didn’t have to worry. He knew that he didn’t; Liam’s parents loved him (Liam repeated that about a thousand times). Still, it was something to focus on as he straightened out the utensils on the table and looked over his mum’s shoulder as she stirred the beef stew. When the knock on the door came, he rushed to answer it. 

 

Karen Payne tackled him in a hug before the door was even halfway open, and Louis could hear the angelic sound of her son laughing behind her. “Oh, Louis, dear, it’s been too long!” Karen framed his cheeks with the crinkled eyed smile that she shared with her son. It was so endearing that everything else left Louis’ mind. 

 

“It really has!” Louis agreed, corraling her inside where she saw Jay and almost squealed. Liam’s dad gave Louis a rough slap on the back that reminded him so much of when Liam would sneak up behind him and forget how much strength he had. The familiarity of it really helped, and he felt the smile on his lips growing little by little. 

 

As soon as his parents were with Jay in the kitchen, Liam leaned over to press a kiss to Louis’ lips. Just before he could follow through, and as much as Louis hated to do it since he’d been waiting to kiss Liam since they returned to their separate homes a few days ago, Louis pushed Liam away. Liam pouted at him. He even brought out the puppy dog eyes. 

 

“Not until after we tell them,” Louis wagged his finger with the words, and he earned a wrinkle-nosed look in return. 

 

In a no doubt last-ditch effort to change Louis’ mind, Liam snaked his arms around Louis’ waist and brought his face so close that their noses brushed together. The puppy dog eyed look grew more intense. “You did promise me a kiss,” Liam reminded him, really laying on the guilt. It wasn’t going to work. 

“And you’ll get one,” Louis rolled his eyes, desperately trying not to reveal just how fond he was of his dolt of a boyfriend, “ _ After _ .” Even though there seemed to be a protest hanging on the tip of Liam’s tongue, a vibration from Louis’ front pocket interrupted him. Without thinking, Louis wiggled out of Liam’s grip and fished his phone out of his pocket as quickly as possible. The name that he hoped to see on the scene wasn't there. Instead, Lottie had texted him to see how dinner was going (and if their mum had cried at the news of Liam and him dating). He tried not to look too disappointed as he tapped back an answer. 

 

Liam was always more perceptive than Louis gave him credit for. He tightened his hold around Louis for just a second before he let him go and said, “He’ll call if he needs us, Louis. Just let him have some time.” 

 

“Yeah,” Louis nodded, but the word sounded hollow. He cleared his throat and stowed away his phone for the thousandth time that night. “Yeah, you’re right.” To push away anymore intruding and prying thoughts, he clapped his hands together and smiled up at Liam. “Are you ready to tell them?”

 

Liam’s only answer was a growing grin before he pulled Louis into the kitchen with him. Dan had joined the mix while Louis and Liam were out in the foyer, and he must’ve shared a joke right before they came in because the room was filled with uproarious laughter. It was a pleasant sight, everyone having fun, and Louis couldn’t wait to share the good news that would make the night that much better. 

 

They didn’t sit down to eat for at least another half hour. The time passed faster than Louis expected, and he lounged back in his chair with Liam right across from him. As if Liam wanted to blow the whole surprise out of the water, he made a point out of staring at Louis for half of the dinner and winking at him for the other half. 

 

It wasn’t until they reached desert that Louis finally pushed his plate to the side. Everyone else was happily chattering away, but the quieted when Louis cleared his throat. “So,” he began, sitting a little straighter in his chair, “Liam and I have something to tell you guys.” 

 

“Oh my god,” Jay whispered as she excitedly grabbed Dan’s hand on top of the table. “ _ It’s happening! _ ”

 

Louis stifled a laugh, and Liam took over as he reached for Louis’ hand and intertwined their fingers. “We’re dating.”

 

“I knew it!” Jay practically squealed before she leveled Dan with a glare and held her open palm towards him, “It’s before the end of summer; I win the bet.” 

 

On the other side of the table, Geoff chuckled as Karen clapped her hands together with beaming eyes. “So, when’s the wedding?”

 

Though Louis’ face heated up, he took comfort in Liam’s fond smile and the languid stroke of his boyfriend’s thumb against the smooth skin of the back of his hand. It was almost enough of a distraction. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo! I'm sorry that this chapter is so short. There's one more chapter to come, and hopefully, it will be the longest of all of them as I wrap everything up! Get ready for angst and endings!


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